


Head Over Heels

by Akru899



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 80's - AU, Alternate Universe - High School, Asexual Steve Rogers, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Feels, Depressed Steve, Depression, Disabled!Bucky, Fluff, High School, High School AU, M/M, Mental Illness, PTSD, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Romance, Slow Burn, Stucky - Freeform, Teenage!Bucky, Teenagers, The 80s AU, asexual!Steve, teenage!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-14 12:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 30,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7170629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akru899/pseuds/Akru899
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the last day of Summer '88, and the last thing James Buchanan Barnes expected to see was the scrawny kid from school at an AIDS protest. When he sees the kid get punched out, however; well, that's a call to action.</p><p>A mostly sugary-sweet 80's AU, complete with track athlete Bucky, shy, skinny artist Steve, Supportive Friend Natasha, and best-mother-in-the-world Sarah Rogers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Surprise Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first Stucky fic ever, and I had to do this because I just love the idea of these idiots in love in the 80's. I hope you enjoy!

It was the last day of Summer '88 and James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes was driving to Coney Island. The Brooklyn sun beat heavily on Bucky as he cruised down the road in his red convertible, a light wind tousling his otherwise neatly styled hair. He'd be meeting his friend Clint down by the pier and they'd celebrate their last day of freedom before the new semester began the next day. By tomorrow, he'll officially be a Junior. He found it a little bittersweet, how quickly time slipped through his hands.

Soon enough, however, he found himself coming slowly to a stop as he found the road blocked by a decent sized protest. Leaning over his door, he strained to get a closer look at the crowd, before deciding it'd just be easier to stop his car and get out. Parking it (illegally) on the curbside, he turned off the ignition and hopped out of his seat, stuffing his keys into his pocket.

The protest was more or less peaceful, if not for a handful of rowdier demonstrators strewn throughout the cluster of people. As he came closer, he realized what everyone was there for – AIDS. Men and women alike carried signs touting pro-LGBT messages, demanding respect and proper attention to the epidemic. As Bucky gazed at the growing procession, he was shocked to bring his eyes to the back of the crowd and spot a kid from school. He'd never spoken to him before, not even in passing – the kid usually kept to himself anyway. Despite that, however, he usually found himself the target of incessant teasing and bullying. If Bucky was completely honest, he never saw why the other kids at school felt the need to pick on him so much – he was all of, what, 5'5”? Bucky had only a few classes with him, though he didn't see him around much often, usually out of school for some ailment every other week.

Now imagine Bucky's surprise at seeing this scrawny kid, all sharp lines and jutting bones, yelling and marching along with the impassioned mass. As Bucky watched, the kid found himself face to face with a particularly angered opposer, about a foot taller than him, and yet, to Bucky's amazement, he didn't back down. In fact, the kid _pushed_ him, earning him a clean sock to the nose.

Bucky doesn't know what came over him, or why, but before he knew it, he found himself running to the scrawny, quiet kid from school splayed on the pavement with a bloody nose. He dropped to his knees beside him, placing his hands on either of the kids shoulders and lifting him up from the ground. The kid soon blinked back into awareness, flailing his arms and yelling at Bucky to _take your damn hands off me, asshole,_ his efforts all for naught against Bucky's runner's strength.

“Hey, hey, take it easy, little guy,” Bucky yelled back, promptly lifting his hands up in the air. “I came to help. You got pretty banged up by that guy back there.”

The kid only scowled at Bucky before lifting his fingers to his upper lip, warm blood coming off on his fingertip.

“I don't need your help,” the kid gritted. “I had the situation handled.”

Bucky couldn't help but laugh at this kid. Not maliciously, but God, what a seriously stubborn kid.

“Really?' Bucky asked. “Cause it seems like you were the only thing that got handled in that ordeal.” Bucky gestured to the kid's nose, bruised and bloody.

The kid's head snapped back up to meet Bucky's head. “I _had_ it. I can handle myself just fine.”

Bucky only shook his head. The crowd was now further up the street, the shouts from the crowd fading out of earshot.

“Come on, let's get up to the sidewalk,” Bucky offered, rising up from his position on the street. Steve slowly pulled himself up to his legs, wobbling a little bit as he stood. Bucky came to his side again.

“Hey, hey, easy now, let's just make it over here,” he cooed, guiding Steve to the sidewalk near his car. Steve rested against a lamp post, Bucky leaning against his car door. Steve kept his eyes glued to the ground, arms folded tightly across his chest. He was wearing a faded _The_ _Smith's_ t-shirt, tucked into his jeans that were rolled at the cuffs, revealing bony ankles that disappeared into a beat up pair of Converse. Bucky would be lying if he said he didn't find it charming, in a little way. The kid definitely stuck to his guns.

“I've seen you around school,” Bucky began. “I'm James Barnes. But friends call me Bucky.” He smiled and held his hand out to shake.

The kid's tilted his head slightly to make eye contact with Bucky. His eyes squinted slightly in the glare of the sun, Bucky awash in the burning orange of a setting sun in front of him.

“I know who you are,” the kid murmured. “How could I not? You're the talk of the whole school.”

Bucky grinned cockily. He was one of the most popular athletes in his school, known for his achievements in track.

“Well, since we have that out of the way, what's your name, little guy?” Bucky cracked a toothy smile, but the kid's face remained pensive.

“Steve,” he finally muttered. “Steve Rogers.”

Bucky's smile grew wider. “Nice to meet you, Rogers. Now, what do you say you hop in with me and I can get you back home? That nose ain't gonna get any better standing out here.”

Steve looked from Bucky's face down to his shoes. He considered his options, but found himself shit out of luck. “Fine,” he agreed.

Bucky smiled again and opened the driver side door. Steve walked around the front of the convertible and reluctantly opened the passenger side door, plopping unceremoniously into the seat.

“Where do you live?” Bucky asked as he put the key in the ignition.

Steve's arms remained folded. “5th and Harris St. It's not far from here.”

Bucky's jaw dropped a little. “I live down the street from there!”

Steve turned his head to Bucky then back out to the road.

“Small world.”

* * *

Steve knew Bucky lived down the street from him. He'd seen him jogging down the road every day after school and every morning on the weekends. Steve had spent many sick days looking out his bedroom window as Bucky sprinted steadily past his family's Brooklyn brownstone.

When Steve got punched out by the bigot at the protest - not before being called  _a nasty faggot, you dog_ \- the last thing he expected to see when he came to was the very boy he'd spent so much time ogling in secret, the star-athlete of Erskine High. The embarrassment of being taken out so easily was only amplified by being seen at his weakest by the cutest thing on two legs he'd ever seen. When he realized who it was who had come to aid him, self-preservation kicked into the place where gratitude should have been in an attempt to scare him off before Bucky had the chance to realize who he was. 

Not that Steve really expected him to recognize him in the first place. Who would notice tiny, scrawny Steve, the kid who's always out of school with a new ailment every week, the easy target for anyone above 5'9"? Even so, Steve couldn't take his chances. What if Bucky realized who it was, laughed straight in his face, and told all his jock buddies at school the next day that  _I saw that twerp at a fag rally yesterday_? Steve couldn't bear it. He'd already had a hard enough time without any gay rumors circulating. Then they'd really be out for blood.

Nonetheless, even with the surrounding circumstances, even with Steve's efforts to act as cold and disinterested as possible - Bucky persisted.  _What the hell is wrong with this kid?_ Steve thought.  _Can't he take a hint?_

But that, it seemed, Bucky was physically incapable of. That, or he actively chose to  _ignore_ the hint. Steve's not sure which he preferred.

Steve was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of Bucky's cautious voice.

"Hey, look, uh," Bucky began, eyes darting around the road. "I won't tell anyone at school about this. It can be our little secret, yeah?"

Steve's stomach flipped.  _Our little secret._ If only Bucky knew a half a thing about Steve's  _little secrets..._

"Yeah, whatever, that's fine," Steve responded, trying  _so damned hard_ to maintain the veneer of indifference. He'd just have to make it 10 more minutes. Then he's gone. Then Steve can go back to being nobody, not even registering on Bucky's radar.

"I know," Bucky breathed, hand moving to rub the back of his neck. "I know someone who's... you know...  _gay._ My uncle. Not that I'm making any assumptions, or anything like that, I just wanted you to know that I-" 

"It's fine, I get it. Let's just drop it, alright?" Steve barked. Or, barked as much as he could. Steve looked at Bucky, watched...  _disappointment?_ register on his face, and felt a pang of guilt. As best as Steve could tell, the guy was only trying to be nice, offer a helping hand. He looked down at his now blood-stained t-shirt, blood already dried brown near the collar.

The two settled into silence, Bucky moving to turn the radio up a few notches. The enthusiastic voice of a radio host blared into Steve's ears.

" _Helllooooooooooooo_ Brooklyn! It's the last day of Summer and I can only imagine how much all you guys out there are dreading it, but let me tell you, we've got a great lineup tonight so don't you go  _anywhere_. Sit back and allow 105.6 to play the soundtrack of  _your_ glory days."

'Lucky Star' by Madonna piped up and Bucky raised the volume just the slightest bit more. Steve laughed to himself.  _Madonna?_ That was the last thing Steve expected to get Bucky putting his radio up.

Before Steve knew it, they were pulling up to the front of his family's home, the sun now almost fully set. Steve let out a sigh of disgruntlement. "My mother is gonna  _kill_ me," Steve sighed as he pushed open - with decent effort - the passenger side door. He hopped out and scuttled around the front of the car, practically bolting for the front door. He didn't want to hang around Bucky any longer than he had to. But, of course -

"Hey, Steve!" Bucky called out as Steve climbed the steps to his front door. "I'll see you around at school, alright?" Bucky grinned. "If your mother doesn't kill you first."

Steve flashed a weak smile, waving half-heartedly. "See you 'round."

Steve watched as Bucky smiled back and drove off into the setting twilight.

God, just  _wait_ until Natasha and Sam hear about this.


	2. Is There Something I Should Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just the damn heat.

“ _Who_ drove you back home yesterday?!” Natasha asked incredulously.

Steve set his food tray down and sighed. “Bucky. Bucky Barnes.”

“After you got _what_ at the protest?”

“Punched out by some bigot. Which prompted Bucky to run over and help me, and he was there because... that bit is still unknown to me.”

Sam giggled, playing with the Jell-O cup on his tray. “Man, you really have a knack for this shit, huh, Steve?”

Steve sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Look, I'm just glad Bucky didn't punch me out himself. When I realized it was him... well, let's just say, with the way I acted, he would have had more than enough reason to get a sock in or two.”

Natasha stared in disbelief, spooning mashed potatoes into her mouth. “So let me get this straight,” she began. Steve groaned, knowing what was next to come.

“You're at a protest, right? You're in the moment. You're _there._ You get in an argument with a bigot, you get feisty, you get knocked on your ass.” It's all Steve can do to nod in mortification.

“Then, as you're flat on the ground, _Bucky Barnes,_ the star of your wet dreams-”

“Nat! Not so loud!” Steve interjects.

Natasha leans in closer and begins shout-whispering.

“The golden boy of Erskine High-”

“With three awards!” Sam added.

“Runs to your aid, and you _fend him off?_ ”

Steve fidgeted. “It seemed like my only choice at the time! How was I to know he wasn't gonna beat me up himself? I didn't wanna risk being recognized.”

Nat sighed, her glare turning softer. “Well, how was the ride with him?”

Steve leaned back in his seat and let his neck fall back. He thought about how hard he tried to not pay attention to the way the sunlight made Bucky's blue eyes shine almost crystalline. Or how the wind blew in his neatly-combed hair. Then, he hunched over and put his face in his hands, groaning.

“Natasha, I acted like such a punk,” he whined.

Natasha reached her hand over the table to pat Steve's shoulder. “Aw, Stevie. That's nothing new.”

Sam stifled a laugh as Steve lifted his head up to glare at Nat. “Whatever,” Steve sighed. “It's not like I was gonna be talking to him again either way.”

“Aw, now don't be so down on yourself,” Sam cooed. “Maybe he has a thing for feisty blondes who barely come up to his shoulder." This time, Natasha stifled a giggle.

Steve's ears turned red. "You guys! It doesn't matter anymore! Why would someone like him risk being associated with the weird scrawny kid?"

"Aw, come on, now, Steve. Sam and I still love you," Natasha reassured.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, 90 pounds of anger and all."

Steve looked back and forth between them.

"I hate you both."

* * *

 As Bucky stepped through the front entrance of Erskine High, first day of school officially finished, he stopped to enjoy the warm air radiating around him. It was always so damned cold in the classrooms.

He scanned over the crowd rushing out of the school, eyes catching on a tiny blonde heading towards the parking lot exit, drawing pad held closely to his side. Bucky cupped both of his hands around his mouth and shouted.

"Steve!"

The blonde didn't turn around. Bucky tried again.

" _Steve!"_

This time, he turned around, eyes squinting in the sunlight. Then, realization dawned on his face, and his jaw dropped slightly. Bucky beamed and made his way over to Steve's spot on the sidewalk.

"Hey, Steve! I didn't see you around today so I figured your mother must'a done you in," Bucky joked. Steve seemed completely lost.

"No, yeah, uh," Steve gestured, at nobody in particular. Eventually, he just let his arms fall to his sides and closed his mouth with a confused nod. Bucky made another attempt.

"Your nose doesn't look half bad," Bucky offered, waving his hand towards Steve's face. Steve seemed to flinch slightly. "It was looking pretty risky, with all that blood and whatnot."

"Yeah, uh, my mom checked me out after kicking my ass," Steve sighed. Bucky laughed, which surprised Steve. And made his insides flutter. But only a bit. 

"Hey, listen, it's getting pretty hot out, you want a ride to your place? I'd hate leaving you to walk out in this weather," Bucky suggested, a bit of hesitation in his voice. He didn't wanna scare the poor kid away, after all.

Now the kid looked downright  _bewildered._ Bucky mentally cursed himself.  _Nice goin', James, you idiot._

"No, I, um," Steve stammered, eyes darting around wildly. His ears and cheeks turned a blazing red, but Bucky chalked it up to the heat. "I'm fine. I like walking, anyway."

 _No, I don't,_ Steve thought to himself.  _My asthma is killer in this weather._

"Oh, well," Bucky began, and Steve could swear for a second you could describe his demeanor thereafter as  _crestfallen._ "Be safe, then. I should be going now."

"Me, too," Steve blurted, nodding.

"Well, bye now," Bucky waved, walking backwards. "See you around tomorrow."

Steve sighed to himself, his shoulders drooping a bit.

"See you 'round." 

* * *

 Steve stepped through the threshold of his home, wheezing slightly as he toed off his Converse. He couldn't wait for this damn weather to cool down.

His mother was still at work in the hospital, but she already had dinner stewing on the stove, ready to be eaten when she got home. Steve grabbed a glass of ice water and trudged over to his bedroom, slipping out of his jeans as soon as he entered in an attempt to get his body temperature down. He took a few gulps before placing the glass on his bedside table, then flopping backwards on his bed.

His mind kept replaying the exchange with Bucky in the school parking lot, over and over, like a broken record. He thought about the way he could have sworn,  _sworn,_ he saw disappointment in Bucky's eyes, twisting his guts. He wished Bucky never found him at the protest at all, if only for that every interaction with him wouldn't end in Steve letting Bucky down in some way.

And that's really why he won't let himself fully interact with Bucky: He feels like he'll only let him down in the end.

Steve can't count on both hands how many times he wasn't able to do something with a friend because of his constant ailments, or because he was in the hospital yet again. Attending the protest was a way for Steve to try and reclaim his time, devoting it to a cause he found worthwhile and close to his heart. And look how  _that_ turned out.

Steve rolled over on his side, half-curling into the fetal position. He was so tired. Tired of his failing health holding him back. Tired of his inability to keep friends beyond Nat and Sam. Tired of feeling so damned  _useless_ all the time. 

He thought of Bucky again, standing there in his chunky grey cardigan. He hoped he took it off when he got to his car because, god damn, it's  _hot_ today. 

It wasn't long before the whirr of his ceiling fan lulled him to sleep. 

* * *

That night, Bucky lay flat on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. He didn't know why, but he couldn't stop thinking about Steve.

Tiny, defenseless Steve.

The kid you'll always find with a drawing pad and pencil in tow. 

The kid who got under Bucky's  _damn_ _skin,_ for some reason.

He wondered endlessly what he could have done that would make Steve act the way he does around him. Did Bucky offend him somehow? Was Steve intimidated by him?

_Does he smell bad?_

Bucky groaned and flopped over on his stomach. The heat must be driving him crazy, is all. Bucky's never met a single person who wasn't immediately taken with him. He was just reading too much into it, that's all. Steve was probably just shy.

_Or hated his guts._

Now Bucky was just downright  _annoyed._ There was no reason to be this troubled by it. 

_And yet._

Piling his pillow on top of the other, he sighed in frustration, throwing his shirt off before settling in for sleep.

Bucky stared up at the ceiling again, hands crossed  over his blanket on top of his stomach. He let out a deep breath.

_It's just the heat. It's so damn hot._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I just wanted to make a note about some errors I made in the last chapter: When describing the protest, I accidentally said "ignition" in the place of "protest." It's now been fixed. Also, I made another error when Steve said "my parents are gonna kill me," and then Bucky also referred to his parents. It's now been changed to "my mother's gonna kill me," which is what it should have been in the first place. 
> 
> I just felt the need to clear those up, seeing as I felt pretty embarrassed by them when I noticed them or had them pointed out to me by friends (thanks, Claire). Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> (Also, the chapter is named after the song by Duran Duran. Bucky's inner turmoil made me think of it.)


	3. Crash Collision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It seemed apparent to Steve that at this point they were, quite literally, on a collision course headed straight for each other."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry if this chapter seems shorter compared to the last two (I don't know the word count for this one), but I hope the Steve/Bucky interaction in this one makes up for it. Also, if I can help it, there is definitely to be more interaction between Steve and his 'ma' throughout this fic.
> 
> Enjoy!

Steve sat sketching outside the school gymnasium, waiting for Natasha to finish her gymnastics practice. When she was finished, the two were to drive down to Coney Island. It had been a little over a week since Bucky saw Steve at the protest, and was the first weekend since school started back up. Steve had seen him around school in passing, every day in the classes they shared and walking by him in the hallway. Bucky hadn't talked to him since the first day of school, and Steve wasn't sure if he was grateful for that or not.

"Hey, Stevie," Natasha huffed as she walked out of the gym. She propped her bag up on her shoulder and put her hands on both hips, looking down at Steve's tiny, cross-legged figure on the floor. "You ready to go?"

Steve packed his drawing pad back into his backpack then took the hand Natasha held out to help hoist him up. They made their way out of the school, walking to Nat's car in the parking lot.

"Hey, has Bucky talked to you lately?" She asked as she sat in the driver's seat, tilting her head. Steve kept his eyes trained out the window.

"No. Not since last week."

"Dammit, Stevie," she began, putting her key in the ignition. "I think you scared him away."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Maybe that's for the best."

Natasha snorted, nudging Steve's shoulder. "Maybe you should stop being so down on yourself. Come on, let's have fun tonight."

* * *

The rest of the day passed in Nat and Steve eating way too much fair food, playing bumper cars more than a few times, and Natasha trying (and failing) to convince Steve to go on the Cyclone with her.

"Nat, I'm not doing it, I'm just _not_ ," Steve protested, both hands up in front of his chest in defense.

"Come on, Stevie, it'll be fun! Take a chance! Don't be the scaredy cat I know you aren't, Rogers," She coaxed, grabbing him by the shoulders.

"No, I don't feel like wearing my entire lunch  _and_ dinner on me tonight. Besides, you know I can't do things like that with my heart defect."

Natasha mock-pouted. "Oh, fine! Play the heart defect card! Just know you can't escape this forever, Rogers."

Steve scoffed. "Oh, I believe you. But for now, I _really_ have to pee after that slushie, so I'll be right back."

"Carry on, soldier," Natasha said, saluting Steve. She turned to walk towards a ball-throwing game as Steve walked backwards. He turned on his heel to walk towards the bathroom, until-

"Ow!"

"Oh shit I'm sorry I wasn't- Wait, Steve?"

"Bucky?"

It seemed apparent to Steve that at this point they were, quite literally, on a collision course headed  _straight_ for each other. Steve sat splayed out on the ground, as Bucky stood worriedly above him. Steve wanted to laugh.  _It seems like we're destined to stay in this position._ In an instant, Bucky was inches away from Steve, hands gripped lightly on his shoulders as he kneeled over him.

"Are you okay? Gosh, I'm such an idiot, I was just rushing by and I wasn't paying attention and I didn't see you till you were  _right_ on me and-"

"Bucky, Bucky, it's alright, I'm fine. I can take a beating like you wouldn't believe."

Bucky stared at Steve blankly for a minute.  _How often does he receive a beating?_  However, in no time, Bucky was back in charmer mode.

"I believe it. You jumped right back up after taking a sock straight to your damn face," Bucky commented.

"Yeah, well. It wouldn't be the first time," Steve said with a grimace. Bucky frowned a bit, putting a hand out to help Steve up.

"I haven't seen you much since last week, you been doin' alright?" Bucky asked. There was a caution in Bucky's voice that Steve couldn't quite place.

"Oh, yeah, I've just uh, been studying," Steve managed to get out, stumbling over his words. He could feel the warmth in his ears increase with every second of eye contact. He was convinced that one day, steam would actually come shooting out of his ears like a cartoon.

"Ah, me too," Bucky said, eyes looking past Steve for a second. "Well, uh, I don't wanna keep you from wherever you were going, and I need to get back to my friend Clint, but before I go..."

Steve's throat closed up, his heart-rate rising. This boy was absolutely  _killing_ him.

"I've got a race next Saturday, and I was just, uh..." Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, displaying his biceps quite nicely in his loose-fitting tank top. Steve tried his damndest not to stare.

"I was wondering if you'd like to come watch." 

Steve's  _positive_ he felt his heart skip a beat. Now, he was sure, Bucky really was trying to kill him.

"I, um, well..." Steve was in full-on panic mode now.  _What the hell do I say?_

"I mean, you don't have to come, if you don't want," Bucky quickly added, seeming to entirely regret his decision. Steve already felt awful.

"No, it's not that, it's just..." Steve began, eyes cast to the ground. Then, he willed himself to look Bucky straight in the eye and smiled.

"I'd like that. Look out for me, yeah?" Steve beamed, or, at least, felt like he did.

Bucky's eyes lit up, face twisting into the biggest grin and,  _God dammit,_ if it wasn't the most adorable and infuriating thing Steve had ever witnessed.

"Well, I'm gonna get going now. See you around, alright?"

Steve smiled.

"See you 'round." 

* * *

The ride home included no limit to Natasha's shouting.

"He might as well have asked you out on a  _date,_ Rogers!"

"It's not that big a deal, Nat! It's just a race." 

"Yeah, brought to your attention by the best damn track athlete in our school!"

"I don't see what that has to do with it all."

"It  _means,_ he's inviting you into his world. He might as well put a big sign on your back, saying 'don't pick on Steve Rogers,' signed by him. It means he sees you as  _more_ than just the scrawny kid, Stevie."

Steve sighed. He wanted to believe Natasha, but part of him still felt worried. He didn't wanna take the whole situation as an invitation from Bucky to be an actual  _friend._ He didn't wanna end up flat on his ass, metaphorically, in front of Bucky.

"I don't know, Nat. I think he's just being nice."

" _Oh, my God,_ Rogers," she practically yelled, making Steve flinch slightly. He couldn't remember a time when he's ever seen her this frustrated with him. "He obviously likes talking to you.  _You_ like talking to him. Let this happen, Steven. It'll be good for you."

Steve nodded, but he wasn't quite sure what he was meant to let happen. 

* * *

"Thanks for the ride, Nat. See you Monday," Steve called from his front door.

"See you, kid," she waved, driving off.

Steve stepped into his home to find his mother doing dishes.

"Hey, Ma," he said, walking into the kitchen to greet her.

"Hey, Stevie," she greeted placing a light kiss on his forehead. He was about the same height as she was. "Did you have fun with Natasha?"

"I did. I ran into Bucky again. Like, literally ran  _into._ " Sarah's head perked up from the dishes.

"Oh, the kid who drove you back home last week?"

Steve chuckled.

"Yeah. That kid. He invited me to the race at school next Saturday." Sarah tilted her head.

"Aww, that's nice of him. Are you going? I think it'd be good for you to get out."

Steve laughed again. "Ma, I was just out today. But yes, I plan on it."

"That's good, Stevie. Really. I want you to make more friends." Steve scoffed.

"You and me both, Ma. I'm gonna hit the sack, alright?"

Sarah sighed. "Me too, as soon as I'm done with this. Long day at work today, another long day tomorrow."

"They'd be nothing without you, Ma. G'night."

"Goodnight, Stevie. I love you," she called from the kitchen.

"Love you too."

Steve walked into his room and shut the door behind him, throwing his bag on the floor. He sat down on his bed and sighed. Bucky was  _way too goddamn nice_. That boy was gonna be the death of him, he was sure.

But for tonight, he just wanted to lay down and think about that smile.

_I did that. He smiled because of me._

It would be the best sleep Steve's had in ages.


	4. Under The Streelights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Natasha noticed that Bucky's eyes had stayed trained on Steve's face since her first comment. There was a certain look in Bucky's expression that struck even Natasha for its tenderness. She wasn't sure even Steve noticed it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally meet Clint!

"I don't know, Clint. I think he might'a bailed."

"Oh, come on, Buck, maybe he's just taking his sweet-ass time."

"But the race is starting soon and I haven't seen him  _anywhere!_  Do you think I might have really scared him off?"

"No, Buck. I highly doubt that. Come on, what's so special about this kid anyway?"

"It's just... I don't know. He's different. There's something about him."

"You're not about to wax poetic about the way the sunlight reflects in his eyes, are you?"

"Shuddup, Clint. The kid's just a nice change of pace. He's quiet. But the kind of quiet where you know a lot's going on underneath."

"And his smile reminds you of home, and his laugh sounds like a song. Come on, Buck, when did you turn into such a  _mush_ _?_ _"_

"I don't know, Clint. When did you turn into such an a-hole? Wait, I think I see him, he's- He showed up!"

Clint turned his head towards the bleachers to find a tiny blonde and an intimidating red-head bobbing through the seats. Bucky waved furiously towards the two (but really only towards Steve), until he finally caught Steve's eye, who gave a meek smile and waved back. The red-head nudged Steve's elbow and leaned in to whisper something, Steve rolling his eyes in response to whatever it was she said.

"You happy now? Come on, go blow them away, kid." Bucky smiled and waved as he ran to his mark.

This was gonna be a  _great_ race.

* * *

 "The kid likes you, Rogers," Natasha whispered with a grin.

Steve rolled his eyes, watching Bucky interact with his friend.

"No, Nat, he doesn't. He's just being nice."

"That smile looks like more than just  _being nice._ "

Steve sighed, fidgeting in his seat. In no time, the race started, and the runners were off.

Steve knew Bucky was good - he didn't have those awards for nothing - but  _goddamn,_ the kid was fast. He watched Bucky's slim figure zoom past the other athletes like it was nothing. He felt admiration settle in his chest.

"His legs don't look half bad in those shorts, eh, Steve?" Natasha snickered.

"Shut up, Natasha," Steve said with a tiny grin. He had to admit, he'd be lying if he said he hadn't been  _slightly_ checking out the toned curves of Bucky's legs. His own legs would look like twigs in comparison, Steve thought. Very pale twigs.

Before long, the race was finished, places were announced, and people began dispersing. Natasha and Steve made their way down from the bleachers, at which point Bucky caught their attention by calling and waving them over to the field.

"You did real good out there, Bucky. Now I know what all the fuss is about," Steve said. Bucky turned bashful, grinning and looking down at the grass.

"It's nothing, really. I could do a lot better."

"Are you kidding? You left them all in the dust."

Bucky smiled, a real, genuine smile, that sent Steve's mind into a frenzy. God, this boy was adorable.

"Thanks, Steve. That means a lot." Steve smiled, seeming to forget himself for a moment. Then it dawned on him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, this is my best friend, Natasha," Steve stammered, gesturing to the redhead standing next to him, simply watching the two boys interact. She had a tiny knowing grin on her face, and raised her eyebrows when Steve introduced her. She put her hand out to shake his.

"Hey, I'm Bucky, nice to meet you," Bucky beamed. Natasha's smile grew wider.

"Likewise. I've heard a lot about you from this little guy right here," Natasha said with a sly grin, eyes downcast to the blonde next to her. Steve's ears and cheeks burst into red. Bucky's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Is that true, Steve?" Bucky said amiably.

"I, well, you know, I-" 

"Thanks for saving him from that little protest scene," Natasha cut in. "The kid doesn't know when to back down from a fight."

Steve huffed. "I just don't like bullies."

Natasha noticed that Bucky's eyes had stayed trained on Steve's face since her first comment. There was a certain look in Bucky's expression that struck even Natasha for its tenderness. She wasn't sure even Steve noticed it.

"Hey, listen, my friend Clint and I are heading down to the burger joint after I'm finished cleaning up, would you guys wanna tag along?" Bucky offered. Natasha watched Steve's jaw drop just the slightest bit.

"We'd  _love_ to," said Natasha. "Around what time?"

"Well, if you're fine with waiting about 30 minutes, I can drive us all down myself." 

"Is it okay if we invite our friend Sam to meet us there?" Natasha tilted her head.

"Yeah, that'll be great! The more the merrier."

Natasha smiled.

"Perfect."

* * *

"... So then Bucky, asshole that he is, hands me my pants back and says, 'Aw man, you should have just asked.'"

The entire table erupted in laughter. Bucky flashed a sly grin at Clint. "Well, you should have." Clint punched his shoulder playfully.

Steve had stayed mostly quiet the whole night, choosing instead to sit back and watch everyone interact. And that is to say, really, he chose to sit back and watch  _Buck_ _y_ interact with everyone. Bucky was wearing a leather jacket for the occasion, and Steve just about buckled at the knees when he saw him walking through the school entrance with it on.

Sam took a gulp of his milkshake as Natasha leaned on his shoulder. "Y'all gotta hear about the time Steve mistook his paintbrush water mug for his tea mug," Sam said through giggled.

"Aw, come on now, we've all been there," Steve said, a smile creeping on his face.

"Yeah, but not everyone  _kept drinking_ ," Natasha added.

"Yeah man, how damn bitter was that tea you were drinking?" Sam asked.

"Alright, alright, fair enough. Listen guys, I need to be getting home soon." Steve sighed.

"Me too, actually. I need to get up early to run tomorrow," Bucky agreed. "Maybe Steve and I can wait outside by the car for the rest of you guys to finish."

"Alright, bud," Clint said. "See you in a minute."

Steve was positive the look on his face was one of pure confusion.  _Why did Bucky single him out like that?_

"Uhh, let's go then," said Steve, getting up from his seat with hesitation. Before long, Steve found himself alone with Bucky, leaning against the car door.

"Hey, did you have a good time tonight?" Bucky asked, keeping a safe distance between himself and Steve. Steve nodded quickly.

"Yeah, I had a great time. Thanks for inviting us." 

Bucky smiled slightly. Steve could tell he had something he wanted to say.  _Come on. Spit it out already._

"Look, uh, I just wanted to say..." Bucky started, inching ever so slightly closer to Steve.  _Here we go._ Steve braced himself.

"I think you're a cool guy. Like, really. And I'd like to keep talking to you. I almost thought you wouldn't..." Bucky paused, a laugh that sounded more like a breath leaving his mouth. Steve gulped.

"It's dumb. I don't know. I thought I scared you away by being too... friendly, or something. I almost thought you weren't gonna show up to the race today." Bucky avoided looking Steve in the eye.

Steve took a deep breath.  _He actually cared that much whether I showed or not?_ He calculated his next words. He didn't quite know where Bucky was going with this.

Bucky started back up before Steve had the chance to respond. "It's just," he huffed, both hands in his jacket pockets. He shrugged slightly. "You're different, Steve. I'm really intrigued by you. We've only talked a few times, and I probably sound like some sort of creep, but that's the plain truth."

_I'm hallucinating. I have to be._

"You're different from the others I've come across. I get the impression you actually care."

Steve could tell, under the streetlights, that Bucky was full-blown blushing. He could feel his own cheeks burning up.

"Bucky, I... I don't know what to say. I'm flattered. I'll admit, I'm..." 

Bucky's head perked up. His face lit up expectantly.

"I wouldn't mind getting to know you better."

_And there's that smile again._

Bucky's gaze stayed glued to Steve, and he willed himself not to fidget underneath it. He didn't realize until now, but Bucky was only inches away from him, faces strikingly close. Bucky couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something about the way Steve's lips curled upwards just slightly that got under Bucky's skin. And for a minute, he wondered what would happened if he stepped just the slightest bit forward, leaning in ever so slowly, the sound of Steve's breathing quickening underneath him, until-

"Let's blow this joint!" Natasha called, Sam and Clint trailing right behind her. Bucky practically jumped away from Steve, leaving the blonde to catch his faltering breath. For a second, he considered grabbing his inhaler out of his pocket. Bucky began walking to the driver's side as if nothing happened. Natasha walked up to Steve, still leaning, in a daze, against the car door.

"What's the matter, Rogers? Seen a ghost?"

* * *

After dropping everyone off at the school parking lot to drive their cars back home, Bucky drove off to his own apartment. His heart rate was still the slightest bit raised when he got in, toeing off his shoes as he greeted his parents.

"Hey Ma, hey Pa," he huffed, taking his jacket off.

"Hello, sweetie. Did you have a good night out?" His mother asked.

"Yeah, some friends and I went down to the burger joint. But I'm absolutely  _wiped_ today, so I'm gonna hit the sack. G'night, guys," Bucky called as he walked down the hallway to his bedroom.

"Night, Buck," his father shouted before Bucky closed the door.

Bucky immediately flopped stomach-first on his bed, arms crossed underneath his head. He needed to catch his breath. He wasn't  _entirely_ sure what just happened back there with Steve.

He wasn't sure, and yet, he was pretty positive he wanted it to happen again.

" _God,_ " he gritted, scrunching his forehead. He didn't know what this kid was doing to him, and he didn't know if he liked it or not. This was  _definitely_ not the position he was used to finding himself in. He never let himself get this riled up over anyone before, male  _or_ female. Was he actually about to kiss Steve back there? Was Steve actually about to  _let him?_

He was about to go half-mad with it all. This kid was driving him nuts. And yet somewhere, deep down...

... He kind of wanted more.


	5. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He watched quietly as people passed him on the sidewalk, walking their dogs or simply out for a morning stroll. But he was waiting for one person in particular."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for how short this chapter is, but I think the content should make quite up for it. I hope you enjoy!

The clock ticked 8:00 AM. Steve's bones ached. It was the autumn chill settling in over Brooklyn. His head swam with memories from the previous night, memories of Bucky's face only inches away from his own, memories of Bucky's hand softly brushing over his. The contact that could have been. Steve burned to know how far Bucky actually planned on taking it, how much further forward into Steve he was willing to lean. He heard Natasha's voice chime in his head.

_There's only one way to find out, Rogers._

* * *

Steve sat on his front steps wearing a blue hoodie and a light knit scarf. His nose was red and runny. During these cold months, he was especially susceptible to cold and flu. But right now, he had to tough through it.

He watched quietly as people passed him on the sidewalk, walking their dogs or simply out for a morning stroll. But he was waiting for one person in particular.

His hands shook slightly, and despite how cold they were (his hands were always the most sensitive to cold), his palms were a little sweaty. Nerves and falling temperatures. Just what Steve needed.

Watching down the street expectantly, he wondered what it was he was even planning on saying. Half of him was hoping he wouldn't have to start off with anything, and Bucky would explain himself anyway. But Steve was old enough to know that nothing ever worked that easily.

Suddenly, the steady tapping of sneakers on concrete came into Steve's field of hearing (in his good ear, at least). He felt his blood pressure soar.  _Jesus,_ he thought,  _I don't even know if it's him or not._

However, a few more seconds wait revealed it was exactly who he was waiting for. Bucky was running in a baggy grey sweater and jogging shorts, headphones on and Walkman clipped to the hem of his pants. He breathed evenly through his nose, clearly lost in the focus of the running and music, until he noticed Steve's figure on the stone steps, causing him to slow his pace to a total stop. He watched Steve for a moment and swallowed hard.

Steve tried his best to appear collected in front of Bucky. Or, at least, as collected as he can be in this weather, in front of his crush. He was almost full-body shivering at this point, but he made his best efforts to conceal it. 

Bucky slowly removed his headphones. He lightly kicked the concrete, looking down at his feet. 

"Uh, hey Steve," he said meekly.

"Hey, Bucky."

Silence. Bucky struggling to look Steve in the eye. Steve finding it hard to look directly at Bucky, or else he'd find it even more difficult than it already was to keep from leaping up to kiss him. 

God, this was gonna be like pulling teeth.

"Did you, um, make it back home alright last night?" Bucky asked, eyes peering from below his eyebrows. 

"I'm here, aren't I?" Steve replied, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. 

Bucky smiled now, chuckling softly. "Don't be such a punk," he nearly whispered.

Now Steve was smiling, too. "It's what I do best."

Bucky's smile slowly dropped. "Listen, I wanted..." He paused and took a deep breath, crossing his arms. "I think there's something we need to talk about."

Steve gulped, fists clenching. He nodded weakly. "Yeah." His nerves were on fire. He wasn't sure if Bucky was going to backtrack and apologize for the night before, act like nothing happened, or what. He could only sit and listen. He felt helpless, as usual. He hoped  _so damn badly_ that Bucky wasn't about to brush off what almost transpired.

"I don't know what came over me last night, Steve. And I'm afraid I might have fucked everything up." Bucky ran his fingers through his hair, flustered. Steve thought about how nice it would be to do that himself.

"Bucky..."

"I just find you so... I don't know, kid. You got under my skin. And all I want is to get to know you better, actually  _know_ you, and-"

"Bucky, I like you."

The words slipped out of Steve's mouth like tranq darts, paralyzing Bucky in the middle of his sentence. Steve internally marveled at his sudden burst of confidence. Bucky simply sputtered.

"Like, I  _like_ you, Bucky. If that's alright with you." Bucky's face turned a brighter shade of red than Steve thinks he's ever seen anyone's turn. He realized that, sometimes, chances had to be taken.

"I think... That's more than alright with me, Rogers." Bucky's hesitant demeanor quickly melted away to reveal a brightness in his eyes that Steve would bottle if he could, keep it on his bedside table at night to fall asleep to. Steve was nearly positive his expression mirrored Bucky's.

Bucky looked both ways down the street to check for any pedestrians before walking slowly up to Steve, still hunched on the brick steps. He leaned in slightly and whispered.

"Do you wanna pick up where we left off last night?" Bucky's hot breath sent a shiver down Steve's spine, and it took every fiber of his being to not grab Bucky by either side of his face and smash his lips on his own, romantic build-up be damned.

But he couldn't.

"I actually think I might be coming down with something, so that's probably not the best idea..." Steve huffed. Bucky giggled heartily, face scrunching up, and it was then that it struck Steve just how limitless that laugh made him feel. He couldn't help but giggle too.

"How about you get back inside then? I wouldn't want you getting any sicker than you already have to be," Bucky suggested softly. He looked down and noticed how much Steve's hands were shaking. He held them lightly, and Steve almost felt his heart give out. He looked at Bucky's hands on top of his and felt safe. He felt  _right._

"That's probably a good idea..." Steve whispered. He looked up into Bucky's cool blue eyes, and could have cried from the pure emotion coming from them. He can't recall a time when anyone looked at him like that.

"I'm gonna get going now," Bucky said, backing away to continue his jog. Steve nodded.

"I'll see you around, Rogers."

"See you 'round, Bucky."

 


	6. Checking In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He couldn't recall a time when he felt about anyone else the same way he feels about Steve, male or female. He'd only known the kid for a few weeks, Jesus Christ, and he already had Bucky acting like a damn fool."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I made playlists on Spotify for both Bucky and Steve, out of boredom. If you wanna check them out:
> 
> Bucky  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/kiragami99/playlist/7JLb1AGUyOcsNNoCeMzgyB
> 
> Steve  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/kiragami99/playlist/1ZgAUazDZb8bEHmB4rhyzu
> 
> (Of course, Bucky's into pop and Steve listens to The Cure)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

"Ma, I'll be fine," Steve all but swatted Sarah away. "This isn't the first time you've left me home with a cold."

"I know, Stevie, but you can get so bad in this weather, and-"

"I can take care of myself, Ma, I promise. I won't always have you around to help, so I might as well start learning now."

Sarah's eyes turned softer, sadder. "I know. But I don't see why I can't help you while I'm still here."

Steve held her gaze, sighing. "Come on, Ma. We worry enough about how we're gonna eat without you skipping work."

Sarah acquiesced. "Okay. But you call me if something's wrong, okay?"

Steve nodded. "Always do."

* * *

Bucky swallowed around the lump in his throat. He knew Steve was coming down with something, but he hadn't seen Steve around at school at all that day, and it worried him. Steve worried him. Tiny (adorable?) Steve.

As enthusiastic as Bucky felt about his newfound feelings for Steve, it still took him a bit getting used to. This was relatively unfamiliar territory for him. And it's not like he was worried about what his family would think. His mother's brother was gay, and they were all accepting. A relative anomaly for the times they lived in, Bucky knew that much. And sure, he found himself eyeing some of his fellow athletes from time to time, but he was still attracted to girls, too.

Steve, however...

He couldn't recall a time when he felt about anyone else the same way he feels about Steve, male  _or_  female. He'd only known the kid for a few weeks, Jesus Christ, and he already had Bucky acting like a damn fool.

That's why he wasn't surprised when he found himself roaming the school hallways in search of Sam and Natasha.  _Like some kinda lost puppy,_ He thought.

Then, finally, he spotted Nat and Sam making their way towards the front entrance together. "Natasha! Sam!" he called, sprinting over to them. They both looked over their shoulders as Bucky approached them.

"Well, if it isn't the star athlete himself," Natasha greeted, grinning.

"Guys, I was wondering if you knew how Steve was doing. He didn't show up to school today," Bucky huffed.

Sam and Natasha turned to each other and grinned.

"No, we haven't heard from him since Saturday," Sam answered. "Why do you ask?"

Bucky knew his face reddened the moment Sam asked. His cool exterior slipped for a moment.

"Uh, no reason, I just..." Bucky trailed off.

"You just...?" Natasha repeated. She had the smuggest grin on her face. It only made Bucky more flustered.

"It's just, when I talked to him yesterday, he said he felt like he was coming down with something, and-"

Natasha's eyes widened. "You talked to him yesterday?"

"Well, yeah," Buck huffed. "But only because I was on my morning run, and he was outside his apartment-"

"Outside? In the  _cold?_ " Natasha asked, incredulous. "No wonder he's sick!"

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Was he waiting for something? He doesn't just go out in the cold like that."

Bucky fiddled with the hem of his sweater. He couldn't lie to save his life. "Well, he was actually waiting for me..."

"Oh," Sam and Nat chimed in unison. "Alright, it makes sense now," Sam nodded.

"Why? Has he told you guys anything?" Bucky felt his heart beating faster. How much has Steve talked about him?

"Nothing he hasn't already told you, probably," Natasha said coolly. Sam snorted.

Bucky was blushing like crazy now. "Well, uh, I don't wanna hold you guys up, I'm gonna head home now."

"Alright," Sam waved. "Tell Steve we said hi."

Natasha nudged his shoulder, laughing. Bucky sighed, walking out the school doors.

* * *

Steve's least favorite part of colds was always the sore throat. The scratchy, constant irritation that lasted the entirety of most of his colds. Even just blowing on foods to cool them down made him wince in pain.

For this reason, he refused to eat most of the time while sick. It drove his mother crazy, and he knew it wasn't good for him, but, dammit, he just couldn't stand the sensation.

Despite this, however, he found himself rummaging through the kitchen wrapped in a blanket, absolutely  _starving._ He was considering how much a leftover beef stew would hurt going down when he heard a timid tapping on his front door. Head perked up, he closed the fridge door and made his way over. He was slightly confused, seeing as the Rogers never had visitors, and they definitely weren't expecting any packages. 

Steve would have looked through the peephole first, if he could. But he was too short. Imagine his surprise when he opened the door to find-

"Hey, Steve. I just wanted to drop by and..." Bucky trailed off as his eyes did a once over on Steve. It took Steve longer than it should have to register that the bashful look on Bucky's face was because Steve was standing there, in his boxers and t-shirt (which had slipped his mind) with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Bucky watched the color intensify in Steve's ears.

"I'm, just one second, let me go- just stay here, I'll be right back," Steve sputtered, closing the door on Bucky. Bucky winced at the raspiness of Steve's voice. God, poor kid.

In no time, Steve re-opened the door, now wearing a beat up pair of jeans. He swallowed hard, wincing. "Um, what are you doing here?"

Bucky opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. He seemed a little surprised by Steve's reaction. "Well, I didn't see you around school today, and I know you said you were coming down with something, so I just thought I'd drop by and-"

"You didn't have to do that, Bucky," Steve rasped, coughing a bit. He didn't want to hurt Bucky, he just couldn't stand anyone seeing him sick like this. His back ached like crazy with congestion and he just wanted to lie back down.

Bucky's gaze fell for a second. "I know, but I wanted to..."

Steve sighed, shoulders dropping slightly.  _Nice going, you asshat._

"I'm being rude. I'm sorry, Bucky. I like seeing you, and it makes me so happy that you thought of me, I'm serious, but I don't think right now's a good time. I just don't want you to catch anything 'cause of me, alright? Not when you have track." Steve hoped that it softened the blow. Bucky nodded weakly.

"Yeah, no. I understand, Steve. Let me give you your space. Just tell me real quick, you're doing alright, yeah?" Bucky looked like a saddened puppy, Steve thought. So uncharacteristically small. Steve could have kicked himself then and there. Even so, he smiled softly and nodded.

"Yeah, Bucky. I'm alright. Thank you for coming by to check on me. I mean it." Bucky's eyes brightened slightly, a small smile spreading on his face.

"Anytime, Rogers. I'll leave you alone now. So, see you around, punk." Bucky grinned. Steve snorted.

"Bye, you jerk."

Steve watched Bucky hop back down the steps and wave him goodbye. Steve waved back and closed the door. Suddenly, a coughing fit came on, sending Steve running to the bathroom sink as he felt phlegm come up his throat. Steve grimaced as he spat it out. Just another perk of being asthmatic with a cold.

God, he really hated being sick.


	7. In Your Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're not lucky, Stevie. Anyone would be a fool not to see your worth."
> 
> Steve wiped the tears off his cheeks, sniffling. "God, Ma. I hope you're right."

"Are you sure you haven't heard anything from him?"

"Yes, James. Not since Saturday."

"And you're not worried?"

"Well, you gotta understand. This is pretty common for the kid."

"He sounded so bad when I visited, Natasha."

"Listen, Barnes. There's something you have to understand about Steve: he gets knocked down. Easily. He gets sick by the wind blowing the wrong way. He has a lot of health complications. You won't always be able to do something about it. He really only lets his mother see him like this."

Bucky sighed. He wasn't sure what he was getting into when he decided to sit with Natasha for lunch. It had been three days now that Steve hadn't been to school. Bucky just wanted to know Steve was doing okay. He didn't know how Natasha and Sam managed to do this  _every other week._

"I just wish there was something I could do," Bucky breathed. He leaned against his seat, crossing his arms.

"Well, you can try and visit again, if it bothers you that much," Natasha said before taking a sip from her chocolate milk. "You probably won't get very far, but you can try."

Bucky tilted his head, considering his options. He remembered how guarded Steve seemed at first when he visited. He wasn't sure he wanted to get shot down like that again.

But he wasn't known for good decision making skills.

* * *

Steve choked down the chicken noodle soup his Ma spoon-fed him, wet cloth draped over his forehead. He felt like a damn  _baby_. When Sarah came home from work the night before to find Steve sweating and hunched over the toilet spitting up nothing but phlegm, she knew there was nothing that could drag her into work the next day.

"Ma, I can feed myself," Steve groaned.

"I know you can, Stevie. But I also know that if I leave you alone, this bowl is going untouched." Steve remained silent. Sarah giggled softly.

"So I'm right."

A knock came on the front door. Sarah gently placed the bowl on Steve's bedside table. "I'll be right back."

Steve listened as Sarah padded down the hallway, into the living room, and opened the front door.

"Oh, hello. Can I help you with something?" Her voice was distant, but Steve could still make it out.

"Uh, hello, ma'am. Are you Steve's mother?"

Steve's chest constricted.  _Oh, my God. He came back._

"Why yes, I am. Are you a friend of his?" Steve could hear the barely suppressed surprise in Sarah's voice.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm James Barnes. I haven't seen him around school so I thought I'd drop by and-"

"Come in, please! I'm sure Steve would love a visitor would now." Sarah was practically breathless. "Can I get you a glass of water?"

"No thank you, ma'am, I'm alright. Where is...?"

"Oh! Yes, of course, his room is just down here," Sarah said, her voice becoming closer in Steve's hearing. Steve quickly tore the cloth off his face, pretending to use it as a coughing rag.

"Steve, honey, you have a friend here to see you," Sarah cooed as she stepped in the doorway, Bucky trailing behind. When Bucky saw Steve, he smiled shyly, flashing a small wave.

"Thanks, Ma," Steve said, adjusting himself so his back was against his headboard. "Hey, Bucky."

"I'll leave you boys alone," Sarah whispered, excusing herself. Bucky walked in slowly, taking in his surroundings.

A wide desk sat against the wall to his right, its surface littered with pencils and drawing supplies. Steve's closet took up most of the wall to the right. A short brown drawer was on the left of Steve's bed, the top of it decorated with a record player, a pile of records next to it. On top of his bed was the big blue comforter Steve was under right now, the thick knit blanket Steve had wrapped himself in on Monday in a pile in the corner. Up against the large, fluffy pillows, Steve looked like he could be swallowed up into his bed. Bucky would have found it the cutest damn thing, if it weren't for Steve's concerningly disheveled state.

"Well, this isn't the way I expected to be in your room for the first time," Bucky joked, then blushed when he realized what he said. Steve raised his eyebrows, gulping.

"You thought that far ahead?"

"Well," Bucky started, lowering his voice as he came around to Steve's side of the bed. "I didn't wanna kiss you for nothing."

Steve felt his face get (even) warmer, but he tried to play it cool anyway. "You see me like this and can still think about kissing me?"

Bucky shrugged, grinning. "You're cute, Rogers. It's to be expected."

Steve scratched the back of his neck, his gaze falling to his lap. "This would be a lot better if I weren't currently bed-ridden," he sighed.

"I think it's going just fine," Bucky smiled, grabbing Steve's hand gently. Steve really did hate people seeing him like this, but what was he gonna do? Yell at Bucky to leave? He didn't want to be the cause of any sadness on Bucky's face.

"I hope you don't mind me dropping by," Bucky said after a minute of just sitting in silence with Steve. "I just really wanted to see you."

And the thing is, Steve did mind at first. But after hearing the sincerity in Bucky's voice, every concern of his had gone to the wind. He probably could have melted in Bucky's hands at that very moment.

"I don't mind, Bucky. I wanted to see you, too." Bucky's face broke into a grin.

"Well, that's good. 'Cause I plan on seeing a lot more of you."

Steve raised his eyebrows, sputtering. "Oh, I- Um-"

Realization dawned on Bucky's face. "Oh, no, no no no, not like that, I mean-" Bucky's head dropped. "I just ruined the moment."

Steve chuckled, ears still red. "No, you didn't ruin it. Just think before you speak next time, yeah?"

Bucky nodded, giggling. "Yeah. I'll try."

Suddenly, both boys heard Sarah's footsteps coming down the hall, and they quickly let go of each other's hand. "Hey boys, I don't want to bother you, I just wanted to make sure you guys didn't need anything."

"No, I'm fine, but is it alright if I stay a little while? I promise I'll be out of your hair before dinnertime," Bucky asked. Steve tore his eyes from Sarah to Bucky, mouth slightly agape.

Sarah beamed. "If it's fine with Steve, it's fine with me."

Bucky turned to Steve, expression eager. Steve slowly smiled and nodded. "Yeah. I'd like that." How the hell could he say no to that face?

"Perfect. Stay as long as you like, James."

Steve nudged Bucky's shoulder as Sarah left back to the living room.

"Yeah,  _James._ Stay as long as you like."

* * *

"I was never into that alternative kind of stuff myself," Bucky told Steve over the sound of 'Til Tuesday's  _Voices Carry_ album playing on his turntable.

Steve shrugged. "I dunno. Pop never really did much for me. Except for Prince. I fucking  _love_ Prince."

"Yeah, but who doesn't?"

Steve laughed. "Touche. Hey, do you think this eye looks okay? I feel like it's too big for her face." Steve gestured Bucky over, pencil in hand.

"Steve. I think that eye looks fucking great. Is that going to be Natasha?"

"Yeah. Her birthday's coming up soon and I wanted to surprise her with a little something." Steve chewed on the end of his pencil, squinting down at the drawing pad on his lap.

"Well, I think she'll love it, Stevie." The name slipped out of Bucky's mouth without a second thought. Steve's head jolted up.

"Did you just call me Stevie?"

Bucky eyed Steve, thinking. "I don't remember."

Steve grinned. "You did. That's what my mother calls me."

Bucky's expression turned hesitant. "Does that mean you  _don't_ want me to call you Stevie?" Bucky blushed slightly now, actually feeling the nickname on his lips.

Steve bit the end of his pencil again before deciding. "No. I like it."

"Okay then,  _Stevie,"_ Bucky teased, reaching over to pinch Steve's ear. Steve swatted Bucky's hand away with his pencil, giggling.

"Stop! My ears are sensitive, you jerk."

Bucky laughed. "I know. I've seen them in action." Steve froze for a second, seemingly embarrassed. "It's kind of adorable."

Steve's expression eased up again, melting into a dumb smile that made Bucky feel like his insides were replaced with cotton.

"Well, you're not too bad yourself, Barnes."

Bucky shrugged. "So I've been told."

Steve threw his pencil at Bucky, giggling. "Don't be an asshole."

"An asshole that you waited outside in the cold for." 

Steve huffed. "Shut up."

A knock on Steve's door jolted both boys, Bucky backing away from his close proximity to Steve. "Come in," Steve called.

Sarah walked in. "I don't mean to interrupt, but I just wanted to let you know that dinner's ready." Sarah turned to Bucky. "You're more than welcome to stay and eat, James, if you'd like."

Bucky turned to the clock. It read 5:30. He shook his head.

"Thank you, ma'am, but I should be getting back home now. Dinner's probably about ready at my place." Bucky turned to Steve, devilish grin on his face. "Can I get a rain-check, though?"

Sarah smiled. "You're welcome to visit at any time, James."

"Thank you, I appreciate it. I'd better get going now, G'bye, Steve. Want me to drop by tomorrow?"

"You can, if you want. Don't feel like you have to, Bucky. I'm hoping to show up at school tomorrow."

"Alright, well, see you then, hopefully," Bucky said, grabbing his bag. "And thank you again, Mrs. Rogers. It's been a pleasure."

"The pleasure is all mine, James. Get home safely."

"I will. Bye, Steve," Bucky waved, and with that, he was gone.

* * *

"Steve, you have to eat more than a few spoonfuls of soup from lunch."

"But my throat, Ma. I can't stand it."

"I know, but you'll stand being in the hospital for malnourishment even less. Eat up."

Steve began cutting into the pot roast with his knife, grumbling. Sarah watched him, a smile creeping on her face.

"James seems like a very nice young man," Sarah commented, cutting into her own serving. Steve nodded.

"Nicer than I'm used to."

"Oh, come on now, Steve, you have Natasha and Sam. They're nice."

"Yeah, but Bucky's... A different kind of nice. I don't know what about me caught his attention, but I'm not complaining."

Sarah simply watched Steve eat, the gears in her head turning.

"Steve," Sarah said in that particular tone she used when she had something important to say. Steve jerked his head up from his plate, swallowing.

"Yeah, Ma?"

"I know."

Steve froze. He swallowed again, even though he didn't have any food in his mouth.

"Know what?"

"About you and James. I saw you holding hands when I passed by to the laundry room." Despite her soft tone, Steve's expression was panicked.

"Oh, Ma, it's not what it looked like, we were just-"

Sarah reached over the table to grab his shoulder gently. "Stevie, baby, it's okay. I don't mind. I just want you to be happy. That's all I want."

Steve seemed at a loss for words.  _A rarity,_ Sarah thought to herself. Eventually, his shoulders relaxed, his gaze softening. Sarah thought she saw tears welling in his eyes, but she couldn't be sure.

"I like him a lot, Ma. And I think he feels the same way. I never thought this would happen for me," Steve told her, voice cracking a bit. "I feel really lucky."

Sarah rubbed his shoulder. 

"You're not lucky, Stevie. Anyone would be a fool not to see your worth."

Steve wiped the tears off his cheeks, sniffling. "God, Ma. I hope you're right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just a little bit lengthier than the most recent ones. I really wanted to get more of Steve and Bucky getting to know each other better, but most importantly, more interaction between Steve and his mother. I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Also: this chapter is titled after the song of the same name by The Bangles. Give it a listen, if you haven't already.


	8. Try A Little Tenderness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The song made him think of the scene in the record store in Pretty in Pink, when Duckie - aggressively - lip-synced to it. Now, he was pretty sure, he'd think of this moment, sitting next to Bucky in his car as he drove them home, the setting sky casting pinks and oranges and twinges of blue on Bucky's face."

"So you mean to tell me that he almost kissed you on Saturday?"

Steve nodded.

"And we all walked out and  _ruined_ it?"

Steve nodded a little slower.

"And that's why you waited outside for him?"

Steve sighed. "Yeah. And that's also why I got sick and was out of school for 3 days."

"I know that part. Bucky told me."

Steve raised his eyebrows. "Bucky told you I waited outside for him?"

Natasha nodded, tossing her salad around a bit. "Yeah. He was really worried about you."

"That... Makes me kinda happy, actually."

Natasha snorted. "Yeah, Rogers. You did it. You locked down the golden boy."

"I didn't  _lock down_ anyone. I just got damn lucky."

"You tell yourself that, Steve. But I suspect he's on his way to be tightly wrapped around your finger."

Steve thought back to the day before when Bucky told him he planned on seeing a lot more of him. He wanted to feel secure in that so badly, but Bucky had a track record around school for being quite the ladies man. Steve already knew he was different, though. Something made him doubt that Bucky paid house visits to his innumerable past arm-candy. Especially when they were bed-ridden with a cold.

But even so, he didn't feel like getting his hopes up just yet. Not when there was still a chance that Bucky could change his mind about what he's getting himself into.

Not when Bucky could find something better.

But, speak of the devil; just as Steve began sinking into his seat, he spotted Bucky and his jock buddies entering the cafeteria. He watched as they grabbed their trays and shuffled down the line, Bucky grabbing a fruit cup and a ham sandwich. One of his friends leaned in and whispered something to him, making him laugh. Steve enjoyed watching Bucky like this, in his element, with his buddies. 

Bucky must have felt someone staring, because his eyes scanned the whole cafeteria before landing on Steve, smiling and waving slightly when he spotted him. Steve smiled back, flicking his palm up. Natasha looked up from her salad, inspecting Steve, before turning to look in the direction Steve was looking at.

"Aw, look at your boyfriend in his natural habitat."

Steve scoffed. "He's not my  _boyfriend_. He just told me he liked me less than a week ago." His line of sight was still pinned to Bucky. He sighed softly, eyebrows knit together.

"But I sure hope that changes soon."

* * *

"What are you starin' at, Buck?"

"Nothing. Steve."

"Oh, you mean your flavor of the month?"

Bucky nudged Clint with his elbow. "He's more than that, Clint. I like him a lot."

"And that's what you said about the girl before him," Clint said, rolling his eyes.

"No, I didn't," Bucky corrected, lifting his index finger. "I thought she was cute. I never had any urges to visit her at her home while she was sick."

"Oh, my God, did you really do that?" Clint asked in disbelief.

Bucky ducked his head, blushing. He paid for his lunch and picked up his tray, starting towards an empty table. "I mean, I might'a."

Clint groaned, settling himself in his seat. "Bucky, man, it hasn't even been a week and you're already  _whipped._ "

"Am not," Bucky protested. "He just makes me happy. Why wouldn't I hang around someone who makes me happy?"

Bucky glanced at Steve again, who was busy talking to Natasha. The kid looked so tiny, his arms crossed with his brown suede jacket hanging baggily on his shoulders. He looked small enough for Bucky to grab and keep in his pocket. Bucky thought back to the day he bumped into Steve at Coney Island, when Steve said he was used to taking a beating. It made him sad to think about. For a minute, he wished he really could keep Steve in his pocket, safe and secure.

"Whatever, man. But I don't wanna hear it when you're sitting right here next week telling me you're bored."

Bucky smiled wryly, still gazing at Steve. "I don't think that'll happen anytime soon, Clint."

* * *

"... And I expect those papers on my desk by Monday, everybody," Mr. Strange called over the ringing bell as students gathered their bags to leave. Bucky had trouble jamming his books back into his backpack, so he was one of the remaining stragglers. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Steve approached their teacher to ask him about their work, Mr. Strange almost a complete foot taller than Steve. Just as Bucky had his things sorted, Steve was leaving the classroom. He hoisted his bag over his shoulder and bolted for the door.

"See you Monday, Mr. Strange," Bucky called as he turned the corner to follow Steve, who was already at his locker. He walked steadily up to him, peeking his head out from behind the locker door.

"Hello, stranger," Bucky greeted. He heard Steve gasp slightly, seemingly startled. Steve backed away from his locker to see (he looked like he could have fit neatly in it, Bucky thought) and sighed in relief when he saw who it was.

"Hey, Bucky," Steve huffed, smiling. "You startled me."

"I gathered that," Bucky laughed, leaning in closer. "How 'bout I make up for it by taking you to the pizza joint down the block?"

Steve paused, inspecting Bucky's face. "You sure, Buck?" Steve breathed. Their faces were so close, Bucky felt like he could have jumped into Steve's eyes. He swiped the tip of Steve's nose playfully with his index finger, a small, sweet smile creeping on Steve's face.

"More than sure, Stevie."

Steve swallowed. "You're not worried about..." He looked behind his shoulder.

"Being seen? Not one bit. Are you?"

Steve tilted his head. "Well, I mean, considering my track record..."

Bucky grabbed Steve's shoulder gently, looking him square in the eye. "Listen, I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, alright? Cross my heart." Really, all he wanted was to make Steve feel safe. Protected.

Steve hesitated, eyes darting from Bucky's eyes to his hand on his shoulder. Then, he nodded. "I'd like that, Bucky. I'd like that a lot."

* * *

Steve had been to Bella Giornata Pizzeria only once before, when he, Sam, and Nat decided to play hookey. He loved the old-world charm, the exposed brick walls, family photos adorning every wall. It felt comfortable.

"Nothing beats this place," Bucky said as he settled down in a booth seat.

"How many times have you been here?" Steve asked.

"Oh, a few times with track buddies. Never before with a..." Bucky hesitated, like he wasn't quite sure how to refer to this outing.

"... A date?" Steve suggested, both hands in his lap and his shoulders hunched as if to make himself seem smaller.  _Even_ smaller. "Is this a date?" He intoned.

Bucky smiled, nodding. "I'd say so." Just then, a waiter came around the corner to their table.

"I have waters here for you two, would you like anything else to drink?"

"No, we're fine," both boys declined. They ordered a small cheese pizza ("can you put pepperoni on one side?" asked Steve) and the waiter was off.

"So, Stevie," Bucky started, arms crossed on top of the table as he leaned against it. "Tell me about yourself. Introduce me to the life of Steve Rogers."

Steve placed his hands on the table, crossed together. "Well. There's not really much to say."

"Come on, Rogers. Tell me about your family. What are  _they_ like?"

"Well, my Pa passed away when I was a toddler, and I'm an only child," Steve said, sounding as if he's explained this many times before.

"Oh, God, Steve, I'm sorry..." Bucky whispered, brushing the back of Steve's hand with his fingertips. Steve looked down at Bucky's fingers, blushing slightly.

"It's okay, really," Steve sighed, eyes still downcast. "I feel more sorry for my Ma. It's really hard for her, you know, trying to support a kid and herself on her own. I can't do much to help out, not when the wrong wind sends me into an asthma attack."

Bucky's eyes looked sad. Steve fidgeted. "But I don't want pity, or anything," Steve blurted, a bit louder than he intended. He couldn't stand that sorry look in people's eyes when he talked about his life. He didn't want to have to endure it from Bucky, too.

"I'm sorry, it's just... I don't want you to think I have it worse off than anybody else. Everybody's got it hard, some way or another." Bucky simply gazed at Steve, inspecting his face. Steve couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"Maybe, but, y'know, Stevie," Bucky started, playing with Steve's slender fingers, "that doesn't mean you can't admit if you've got it a little harder than most."

Steve took a sip of his water, swallowing hard. "What about your family, Buck? What are they like?"

Bucky leaned back in his seat with a sigh, crossing his arms. "Well, I'm the oldest of four, my sisters are named Rebecca, Lily, and Katherine, my Pa is a retired Air Force pilot, my Ma is a seamstress..."

"A seamstress?" Steve repeated. "I always thought sewing seemed like a handy thing to know. Did she make many of your clothes?"

Bucky laughed. "No, but when a friend or extended family member had a wedding, she was  _the woman_ to go to. She thrived. She works hard. The day one of my sisters gets married..." Bucky made a whistling sound, eyes widening. "It's gonna be an  _event_ for her, I can tell you that."

Steve smiled gently. "And what about your dad? What's he like?"

Bucky stared off past Steve, eyes glazing with admiration. "God, my dad... I always looked up to him so much. Putting your life on the line for your country like that... I can only hope to be half the man he is, someday."

"It sounds like you love your family a lot, Buck."

Bucky shrugged, throwing his hands up. "They're the reason I'm here, the reason for everything I have, the reason for everything I am... I just wanna give it all back to them, one day."

"That's sweet, Bucky. Really."

Before long, their pizza arrived, and they both became too busy devouring their slices to have any substantial conversation beyond grunting and "oh my God, this is so  _good._ "

"I don't think I've ever tasted anything better," Steve groaned. Bucky nodded enthusiastically.

"Best pizza joint in Brooklyn, hands down," Bucky said, looking at the clock on the wall. It read 5:00 PM sharp. "But hey, I don't feel like going back home just yet, so how about we hit the ice cream shop before we head back?"

Steve looked at his watch, thinking. Sarah wouldn't be home from work for another two hours.

"That sounds like fun."

Bucky grinned, placing his money and tip down with the check. "Let's go, then."

* * *

The two boys ended up splitting a hot fudge sundae, Steve requesting sprinkles on top ("I didn't know I was taking a 10 year old out on a date," Bucky teased). By the time they were finished, it was 6:30, and already getting dark out.

"I should be heading back, my Ma will be home soon," Steve huffed as he pulled his messenger bag over his shoulder.

"Yeah, my parents are probably wondering where in the hell I've been," Bucky agreed. They made their way over to Bucky's car, settling into their seats. When Bucky turned the car on, they were greeted by "Try A Little Tenderness" by Otis Redding on the radio. Bucky turned the volume up as they started down the road.

"I love this song. My folks love to play old jazz around the house all the time," Bucky half-shouted over the wind. Steve smiled.

"I like it, too." The song made him think of the scene in the record store in  _Pretty in Pink,_ when Duckie - aggressively - lip-synced to it. Now, he was pretty sure, he'd think of this moment, sitting next to Bucky in his car as he drove them home, the setting sky casting pinks and oranges and twinges of blue on Bucky's face.

In around 10 minutes, Bucky pulled up to the sidewalk in front of Steve's apartment. Steve couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. If it was up to him, they'd be in that car together, driving through the city for hours.

"Thanks for today, Bucky. Really," Steve said, reaching for Bucky's hand. "You know how to treat a lady."

Bucky burst out laughing, squeezing Steve's hand. "So I've been told. Enough that you'd wanna do this again?" He whispered the last part, biting his bottom lip. Steve could have whimpered from the sight of it.

"Yeah. Definitely." It wasn't a conscious action, but he felt himself leaning closer to Bucky, and Bucky leaning closer to him, until he could have died waiting for the eventual contact. But what felt like an eternity turned into an instant as he finally felt Bucky's lips push gently against his, and  _God, they were so soft,_ slightly sticky and tasting like chocolate from their sundae as Steve parted his lips  _just_ slightly before Bucky pulled away, resting his forehead on Steve's, breathing slightly heavier than before.

"Wow," was all Steve could muster up, making Bucky laugh in a way that was more a puff of breath. Bucky pecked his lips once more before sitting back in his seat, his hand still in Steve's.

"That was really nice," Bucky whispered, looking down at their intertwined fingers. Steve licked his lips, tasting the remnants of Bucky on them.

"The date or the kiss?"

Bucky laughed again, leaning against his seat. "Both."

Steve smiled before pulling his hand away, moving to open the passenger side door. "Thanks for the ride back. I'll see you at school tomorrow." Bucky waved slightly, contentment written all over his expression. Steve felt tingly inside.

"See you tomorrow, Stevie. Have a good night."

"You too, Buck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THEY KISSED!!


	9. Family Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And, hell, he owed it to himself too, really. Why would he, in his right mind, rob himself of a chance not many others like him had at the time - to live his authentic life, honestly, and with support from his loved ones? The decision was being made all too easy for him. And he wasn't going to take it for granted."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the short length of this chapter, but I hope the ground covered is sufficiently satisfying till I post the next chapter.

Bucky couldn't recall a time when he'd felt more nervous in his  _life._ Not that he didn't run into nerves often. Behind the charming, outgoing veneer, Bucky was one of the most anxious people you'd meet. He almost never let it show, though. Or at least, he thought he didn't. You could probably ask Clint and get a very different answer.

He paced back in forth in his bedroom, leaving continuous footprints in his plush carpet. He was biting his nails, a nervous tick he managed to hide well enough around friends. He couldn't wrap his head around why this was so goddamn nerve-wracking. His family had always been exceptionally open and honest with each other, almost nothing going unsaid or undiscussed. For better  _or_ for worse.

Sometimes, in an attempt to keep it at a minimum, he tried envisioning his anxiety as a blank piece of paper. In his head, he'd write down everything that was making him tick, everything that was crawling under his skin. Finally, he'd imagine taking it in his hands and crushing it, tearing it, destroying it in any way suitable. The goal was to make it seem smaller in his head. To put everything in perspective.

It only worked about half the time.

His uncle was gay. His parents coworkers were gay. Bucky was  _bisexual_. He couldn't see his family looking at him any differently than before.

But you never know until it happens, right?

Bucky always toyed a little with the notion of dropping his attraction to the same sex as casually as possible, in the middle of a dinner conversation or some other trivial moment. In the back of his head, he always knew his family would hardly blink an eye. His uncles coming out came as a shock, sure - but cutting him off never even crossed their minds. They wouldn't even consider  _thinking_ about disowning Bucky, or doing anything to put him in harm's way. He was their son, their firstborn. 

The problem was, Bucky had heard far too many stories of kids - and adults - being disowned by their families the moment their sexuality came to the family's attention. And if you didn't have your family to worry about - God help you in public. Hell, Bucky had even  _witnessed_ Steve get punched out by a bigot at a protest. It churned his stomach when he realized that guy was there for the sole purpose of spreading his own hate and misery.

And, yeah - Bucky acted as if he wasn't worried about all of that with Steve. He put up a strong enough act, but deep down, he was probably just as nervous as Steve was. It was hard not to internalize all the stories he heard, and the knowledge of how many people saw nothing wrong with it. It made him feel like it was him and Steve against the world, even just daring to enjoy a sundae together an act of defiance.

And that was just the reason for Bucky's anxiety: Steve. Well, that isn't to say that Steve made him anxious. Steve gave him the good kind of butterflies, made his blood pump in a way that made him feel like he was coming to life for the first time  _every_ time. This anxiety - this was the ugly kind, the relentless kind that kept Bucky awake on his worst nights. But Steve was the reason he felt the need to tell them now. Although they had only just had their first kiss together two days ago, Bucky felt like he owed it to the kid and his own family to speak his truth. If he wanted to take this any further with Steve (God and Steve be willing), he wanted his family there with him every step of the way. He didn't want to sneak around. Steve deserved more than that.

And, hell, he owed it to himself too, really. Why would he, in his right mind, rob himself of a chance not many others like him had at the time - to live his authentic life, honestly, and with support from his loved ones? The decision was being made all too easy for him. And he wasn't going to take it for granted.

* * *

It made Steve a little dizzy when he thought about it. He still found himself tapping his fingers to his lips in disbelief, two days later. He felt like he could have dreamt it up. He'd have to kiss Bucky again soon. And again. And again.

It was probably the happiest Steve had been in months. Affection bloomed like a balloon in Steve's chest that night with Bucky, almost to its bursting point, and it made him feel light in a way that he wasn't used to. Like he didn't have a worry in the world. Bucky made him forget himself, and it made him feel free.

When Steve told Natasha and Sam about it the day after, it took damn near everything in them not to burst out cheering in the middle of the cafeteria. He wanted to act embarrassed, but really, he couldn't help grinning himself. In all honesty, it wasn't even much, and Steve knew that. But he didn't need much. Bucky had been his first kiss, and Steve knows for a fact he wouldn't have had it any other way.

Even so, he found himself wanting to see more of Bucky, wanting to soak up as much time with him as he could. He didn't know why, but he felt a little helpless, as if Bucky would slip out of his grasp if he didn't hold on tightly enough.

Not that Steve would ever take Bucky for granted.

Laying flat on his bed, basking in the sunlight filtering through his sheer curtains, he thought about how nice it'd be to have Bucky in the space next to him. Not in any salacious way, or anything - if Steve was completely honest, he wasn't interested in all of that. While many of his peers seemed endlessly interested in finding their first lay, Steve couldn't muster the same desire if he tried. That didn't mean he couldn't appreciate the male or female form. He just found them more aesthetically pleasing than as a source of lust. And Bucky - God, the fella had biceps and legs that Steve could draw for days. 

And touch. He really wanted to touch Bucky's arms.

* * *

"Really, Buck? You thought we didn't know?" Rebecca chided.

Bucky stood at the foot of his family's dining table, mouth ajar. He had rounded everyone up for his announcement, a whole Goddamn speech prepared in his head. When he finally got out with it - "I'm bisexual, guys," he murmured - a silence that felt like eternity followed before Rebecca gave her two cents.

"I mean, really, you're awful at hiding it," she continued, almost bored. "You don't even bother to act like you're not  _drooling_ over any decent looking specimen that walks your way."

Bucky simply sputtered, his whole routine unceremoniously ruined. His mother followed Rebecca in what was soon to turn into the family forum.

"While Rebecca could have put it a little  _nicer,_   _young lady,_ " she began, shooting Rebecca a glare, "she has a point, sweetie. You're not exactly subtle."

Bucky looked at his father next in disbelief, hand thrown up. "Well? You got anything to say?"

His father cleared his throat, his hands clasped in front of him. "Well, I agree with your mother and sister, son."

"Oh, come  _on_ _!"_ Bucky whined. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he turned his back to the table, hand on his hip.

"But we love you, and accept you as you are," his mother assured him. Bucky sighed.

"Alright, well, I guess there's something else I wanna tell you..." Bucky huffed, sitting down in one of the seats. Now, he decided, he wanted to tell them about Steve.

"Yes, sweetie?" His mother asked.

"I'm seeing this boy from school right now. His name is Steve."

Rebecca raised her eyebrows, leaning forward in her seat. "How long have you been seeing him?"

"Well, I don't know, I met him about a month ago... Nothing actually happened till about last week."

Mrs. Barnes reached for Bucky's hand over the table. "Tell us about him," she offered with a smile. Bucky felt the heat crawl up his neck, make a home in his cheeks.

"Well..." He started with a grin, scratching his chin even though he didn't actually have an itch. "He's really tiny. Like," he explained, standing up and placing his hand at the place on his chest right below his shoulders, "this tall. And skinny. But he has the prettiest eyes I think I've ever seen, like, the same kind of blue as really early in the morning, when the sun's not quite fully up but the sky is the calmest blue you could imagine."

"He sounds lovely, Buck-"

"But they're not calm! His eyes, I mean. His eyes say everything. Like when he's nervous or concerned or happy, it's all just written right there like a book. And he draws, too. He draws really well. But the poor kid has so many health problems. I mean, really, he gets sick if you say something to him the wrong way. It's just him and his Ma, so it gets a little hard for them sometimes. But he cares about her so much, I can just tell, and it's the sweetest thing-"

"Oh, my God, Bucky, are you trying to convince us to date him or what?" Rebecca interrupted. Bucky realized he'd been running on and blushed even deeper.

"I'm sorry, he's just- he just-" he stuttered, before eventually slumping his shoulders in dejection. "I like him so much."

Mr. and Mrs. Barnes traded gentle smiles before turning to Bucky. 

"Well, maybe we should have him over for dinner soon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asexual/bi-romantic Steve, how 'bout that?


	10. Staying The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I like you a lot, Bucky," Steve whispered, only slightly looking up at Bucky.
> 
> "I guess you're kinda okay," Bucky teased, grinning.
> 
> "You're such a jerk," Steve giggled. Bucky loved his giggles.
> 
> "And you're my punk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, the last two parts of this one was so cute to write. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

"Your  _parents_ want to meet  _me?"_ Steve almost choked on his chocolate milk.

"Yeah, but not anytime soon. We only just had our first date, like... four days ago."

"And they know that we're...?" Steve whispered, ducking his head.

"Yeah, they know about us."

Steve raised his eyebrows. "And they're fine with it?"

Bucky nodded. "Absolutely. I guess you could say my family is kind of progressive."

Steve crossed his arms, thinking. "My Ma knows about us, too."

"Oh? Did you tell her?"

No," Steve cleared his throat. "She uh, she saw us holding hands when you visited me while I was sick."

Bucky's eyes widened, then he laughed. "Well, at least we have that all out of the way, right?"

Steve laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Yeah. I'm just glad we don't have to hide from them."

Bucky sighed, picking at his mashed potatoes. "I know. Some people aren't so lucky..."

"Yeah..." Steve breathed, eyes downcast. "... But we are." He nudged Bucky's shoulder playfully from across the cafeteria table, grinning. Bucky scoffed, grinning back.

"I'm the luckiest, though. I get to know you," Bucky whispered. Steve didn't know what to say, so he instead smiled meekly and pretended to focus on fiddling with his fingers. Bucky wished they weren't at school right now so that he could just take this boy in front of him up in his arms and squeeze  _so damn tight._

"I like you a lot, Bucky," Steve whispered, only slightly looking up at Bucky.

"I guess you're kinda okay," Bucky teased, grinning.

"You're such a jerk," Steve giggled. Bucky loved his giggles.

"And you're my punk."

* * *

When Steve opened the door to his home, he was surprised to see Sarah standing in the kitchen, preparing a stew. He toed his shoes off and set his bag down on a dining table chair.

"Did you go to work today?"

Sarah shook her head, chopping onions. "Not yet."

Steve squinted his eyes, tilting his head. "Not yet?"

"Marie called in sick and there's no one else to work the graveyard shift. They let me stay home till I have to leave at 8."

Steve stepped closer. "8  _PM?_ Ma, when are you getting back home?"

Sarah sighed, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. "5, probably. Till Iris comes in."

Steve almost doubled over. "Ma, you're gonna be  _exhausted._ " Sarah added the onions to the pot.

"I will, but I can't pass up work." Sarah peeled a garlic clove. "But that's not what I want to talk to you about. I don't feel comfortable leaving you home alone overnight. Are there any friends you can invite over?"

Steve leaned against the fridge door, arms crossed. "Not really, Ma. It's a school night. Nat lives on the other side of town. Sam does too."

"Well, how far does Bucky live from here?"

The breath caught in Steve's throat. "Ha, well, he actually lives down the street. But I don't know, Ma..."

"I can't leave you alone, Stevie. You know there's been that rash of break-ins around here. I'd go crazy worrying about you."

Steve couldn't lie. Under normal circumstances, he'd jump at the chance for Bucky to stay the night. But this made it feel more like Bucky would be  _babysitting_ him.

"I'm gonna be 18 soon, Ma. I can take care of my-"

"Please, Steve," Sarah interjected, staring him square in the eyes. "Just this once."

Steve sighed. He couldn't say no to his mother, no matter how hard he tried.

"Fine, I'll try. But there's no guarantee that he or his parents won't say no."

* * *

"Well, I see no reason why not, James."

"Wait- Really?" Bucky sputtered. He really had expected to be shot down when he asked his mother if he could spend the night at Steve's. Just a few minutes ago, Steve came knocking on his door, informing him on the situation.

"My Ma has a stew cooking for us," he offered. "If you want it, I mean. And we can play board games, or something. Unless you just wanna study, then I can leave you alone..."

Bucky hid his growing excitement. He had thought about wanting to spend the night with Steve, but he didn't expect this to happen so soon. Or ever. Even if it was by Steve's mother's request, of all people.

"I'd love to, Steve. I just gotta ask my Ma real quick, alright? I'll be right back."

He left Steve waiting on the other side of the front door as he left to find his mother.

"Steve's at the door. His Ma is working a graveyard shift and she doesn't feel safe leaving him home alone, so she wants me to stay the night with him. Is that alright?"

Now, granted with her permission, he ran back to the door to tell Steve the news.

"Steve Rogers, I hope you're prepared to be stuck with me for a whole night." Steve couldn't contain his grin.

"Well, damn. I can't spend the night with some loser," Steve teased.

"No, but you can spend the night with me," Bucky retorted, eyes soft. "I just gotta get my bag together, okay? I'll meet you at your place."

Steve smiled. "Okay. See you soon."

* * *

Steve rolled the dice with vigor, a devilish grin on his face as he stared Bucky straight in the eye. God, it took everything in Bucky to resist pulling Steve in by the collar of his sweater and kiss the grin right off his face. Bucky seems to have discovered Steve's competitive side (apparently only reserved for intense board game matches), and he liked it.  _A lot._

Bucky watched as Steve energetically threw the dice on the board, emitting a sharp "Aha!" sound when he counted 7 moves. 

"One... Two... Three..." He said as he moved his Monopoly token - a shoe - across the board. When he landed on his seventh space, he threw his arms up in victory.

"Have fun catching up to me, cause the jackpot is  _all mine,_ " Steve taunted as he wiped the game money from the middle of the board towards him. He had Bucky playing in the style Steve and his mother did, which is, any fine or fee (including get out of jail free cards) that would normally go to the city or the bank, goes instead to the middle of the board. Whoever lands on Free Parking wins the contents of the middle at that moment.

Steve just won himself $750. And that wasn't even counting how much Steve had Bucky absolutely  _pummeled_ so far. He owned 10 properties - all 4 railroads, both New York properties, and a scattering of other properties about the board. Steve had three houses on each New York property, and even without that, Bucky was practically forking over cash at every turn.

"I think it's pretty clear who the winner here is," Steve teased as he sorted the bills into their individual piles. He liked to keep designated piles for each bill. His $20 pile turned out to be the largest. It gave him endless satisfaction to compile each group together into one wad at the end of a game, admire his handiwork.

"Yeah, it's me," Bucky said as he gathered up his disheveled pile of money, bills sticking out at every angle. "'Cuz I get to spend the night with a competitive blonde cutie."

Steve burst into giggles, his nose scrunching up and face crinkling in the most adorable laugh Bucky had ever witnessed. "And all I get is a night with some washed-up jock."

Bucky giggled now, and, God - Steve would do anything to hear that as often as possible. "Do you wanna watch a movie on the couch? I have Beetlejuice on VHS."

Bucky raised his eyebrows. "Beetlejuice, eh? I didn't see you as the type." Steve's eyebrows knit together, a smirk growing on his face.

"What? The type to enjoy  _movies?_ _"_

"No, the type to enjoy movies like  _Beetlejuice._ I mean, not that I'm any cinema connoisseur."

"Then help me put this board away so we can get this movie started."

In about 10 minutes, they had the board and the rest of the games contents packed neatly away in its box, and Steve brought out a big quilt blanket to the sofa for him and Bucky to share.

When Bucky saw the blanket, just the thought of being under the blanket with Steve warmed him up inside. God, he couldn't be bundled up on that couch with the kid fast enough. 

Before long, Steve finally had the movie set up in the VHS player, and him and Bucky were settling into their positions under the blanket.

Bucky didn't even bother to make an attempt to pay attention to the movie, not when he had this achingly adorable boys back pressed up against his chest. Bucky had his feet on the floor while Steve sat cross-legged, leaning against the taller boy behind him. About 10 minutes into the movie, Steve felt Bucky's arm snake gently around his back and waist to intertwine his hand with his own. Steve felt a shiver send down his spine from the gesture. He smiled contentedly, resting his head against Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky looked down at the tiny blonde with his head against his shoulder and felt like he could have burst. He leaned his own head against Steve's, rubbing his check gently against the top of Steve's head. His hair smelled like lavender, and was softer than Bucky could have imagined. He couldn't help himself as he wrapped his other arm around Steve's chest, grabbing his wrist and squeezing him tight against himself. Bucky felt Steve shifting underneath him, apparently changing into a slight fetal position so as to make it easier to rest against Bucky. 

Steve felt so safe with Bucky, so warm, sleep creeping slowly over him. Bucky couldn't have been happier to have Steve curled up into his chest, his hand still clasped in Steve's. He felt himself begin drifting off, and didn't bother resisting it. He couldn't bring himself to ruin this moment if he tried.

* * *

As Sarah came through her front door at 5:30 AM, the last thing she expected to see was Steve and Bucky curled up on the living room couch, soundly asleep. Not that she minded. Truthfully, the sight filled her with a happiness peculiar to anything involving Steve. A certain warmth in her chest when she knew that he was safe, content. This boy was making Steve happier than he's maybe ever been, and far be it from Sarah to get in the way of that.

She was eternally grateful to Bucky's parents for allowing their son to stay the night for such a seemingly trivial issue. She's not sure she would have made it through her shift if she had to leave Steve alone all night. 

But, by the looks of it, Sarah wasn't the only one satisfied with the situation.

The boys still had about an hour and a half till they had to wake up to get ready for school, so she chose not to bother them, let them enjoy their sleep together. Steve was curled up in the fetal position against Bucky's chest in a way that reminded Sarah of when Steve was still an infant, when she'd come home from work to find her husband taking his nap after work with Steve, tiny bundle he was, curled up peacefully in his lap. 

She quietly toed off her shoes, padding gently across the living room to get to the shower. She watched them fondly as she passed, Steve's chest gently rising and falling in even breaths.

She couldn't help but feel a little sorry for them that they had to wake up so soon.


	11. Winter Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "God, Steve," Bucky said into Steve's shoulder, squeezing him tighter than ever. "What did I do to deserve you?"
> 
> Steve's answer came swiftly and simply.
> 
> "Be you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think this is the longest chapter I've written for this so far, but I'm not quite sure. Either way, this chapter was one of the most fun to write.
> 
> Also! This fic has about 3-4 chapters left, but I wanna thank you guys now anyway for reading this far. It's seriously appreciated. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Winter settled over Brooklyn in a flurry of whites and greys. The streets, before filled with the chatter of pedestrians and the laughter of children playing, were now as quiet as the snowfall. It was Winter break - 3 days before Christmas - and Bucky and Steve were in the Barnes family kitchen baking cookies.

Over the past few months, the Barnes and Rogers family became close friends, and it had more than a little to do with the growing closeness between Steve and Bucky. The two were inseparable. After the first night that Bucky stayed the night with Steve, the Barnes family invited Steve and Sarah to join them for dinner. Ever since then, the two families began blending beautifully. Sarah couldn't count on both hands how many times Bucky had stayed the night with her and Steve, or Steve stayed the night with Bucky and his family. The Barnes family treated Steve like their own son, and Sarah treated Bucky the same way.

And, God, Bucky was falling head first for the kid.

"Bucky, where did you put the shortening?" Steve called from the other end of the kitchen. The kid kept surprising Bucky. He knew how to bake. From  _scratch._ Bucky scanned the kitchen, searching for the misplaced shortening, before realizing he had it right in his hand.

"Oh. Here you go," he said, grinning as he handed it to Steve. 

"Nice going, loser," Steve teased, cutting out the measurement he needed. Really, it was Steve actually  _making_ the dough. Bucky was just waiting for the fun part.

"And can you grab me the vanilla?" Steve asked nicely. Bucky handed it to him, hands brushing slightly. Steve kneeled a little bit as he splashed just the right amount of vanilla into the mix.

"You seem pretty familiar with this," Bucky said, coming up behind Steve to watch him mix the dough, one hand gripped firmly on the rim of the bowl as the other folded and stirred with a spatula.

"Yeah," Steve breathed, adding the tiniest splash more of vanilla. "My Ma and I used to cook together a lot. Everything I know, I know from her."

"Well, remind me to thank Mrs. Rogers later," Bucky grinned.

"You gotta taste the cookies, first," Steve joked, knowing full well he's never made a bad batch of cookies before.

"I'm sure they'll be delicious," Bucky said, leaning over Steve's shoulder to place a kiss on his cheek, feeling Steve smile.

"I'm gonna roll out the dough soon, so go ahead and find the cookie cutouts," Steve said as he sprinkled flour on the space of counter next to the mixing bowl. Now  _this_ was the part Bucky was waiting for.

He grabbed the cutouts from the cabinet, shapes ranging from candy canes to little Santa heads. He also want ahead and grabbed the sprinkles to put on top of the cookies before they went into the oven.

Bucky watched as Steve diligently gathered the dough up into a neat ball, slender hands working gently as he rolled it around in the flour before grabbing the rolling pin.

It brought Bucky a quiet joy to watch Steve so invested in his work, swift but careful in his movements. He could tell that Steve took pride in everything he did.

And he took pride in Steve.

When Steve finished rolling the dough into a neat, flat sheet, he took a step back and gestured to the counter. "Would you like to do the honors?"

Bucky rubbed his palms together excitedly, biting his lip. Steve grinned, going up on his tippy-toes to kiss his cheek before turning to grease the sheet pan. 

The next few minutes passed in Bucky cutting shapes out and passing them off to Steve to decorate on the pan. Steve did everything from creating stripes on candy cane shaped cookies to giving the Santa's hats with the red sugar sprinkles at his disposal.

"Stevie, I think these are going to be the cutest damn sugar cookies I've ever eaten," Bucky said, admiring their handiwork.

"Yeah? Don't let your Ma hear that," Steve joked as he put the pan in the oven. "Set the timer for... 15 minutes, please."

As the boys got to cleaning up their mess, Rebecca walked in to grab a glass of water.

"Gee, Steve, you really know the way to Bucky's heart," she teased, turning the tap on above her glass. When Steve looked up at her from scrubbing a bowl, she pointed to Bucky, whose back was turned to her, and mouthed, "The boy can't cook for  _shit._ "

Steve stifled a chuckle, looking over his shoulder at Bucky, who was putting away the ingredients they used. "Is she talkin' trash about me?" Piped Bucky.

"No," Steve lied, grinning. "She's singing your praises."

"Don't listen to a word she says, Stevie," Bucky said, turning to glare at Rebecca. "She'll only try to taint you against me."

"Please, I'm doing the boy a  _favor,_ Buck," said Rebecca, nudging Steve's arm. "I'm just letting him know what he's getting himself into."

"Well, I don't need your  _favors,_ " Bucky said, walking jauntily over to Steve and throwing his arm around Steve's shoulder. "Not when I have irresistible charm on my side."

Rebecca snorted. "Is that what you call it?"

Steve was drying the bowl now, putting it away in its cabinet before moving on to wash the utensils, laughing as he listened to Bucky and Rebecca's banter. Steve loved watching Bucky interact with his family, loved watching their family dynamic. They all loved each other so much, and it showed.

In what felt like only a few minutes, it was time for the cookies to come out of the oven. Steve grabbed a mitt and opened the door. They looked perfect - just the right shade of golden brown, not too flat and crunchy but not too thick, shapes still in tact, sugar sprinkles melting perfectly - and Steve felt a wave of pride.

Bucky tried to take a cookie straight off the pan before burning his fingers. "Ha," Steve laughed, setting the pan on top of the stove. "That's what you get for being impatient."

Bucky threw his hand up, busy running the other hands fingers under the cold tap water. "What? First my sister, now my boyfriend giving me crap? Can I catch a break?"

"No," Rebecca said simply, taking another sip of her water.

Steve waited a few minutes before carefully lifting the cookies off the pan with a spatula, placing them on top of a cooling rack. "You should be able to have one in a few minutes."

"Good, because I like my cookies  _hot,_ " Bucky said, practically drooling over the cookies.

Now came the moment of truth - Bucky and Rebecca both took a cookie, Rebecca taking a candy cane and Bucky taking a gingerbread man, biting tentatively into them, as Steve watched in anticipation.

They both closed their eyes as they chewed, and Steve laughed to himself as he saw the family resemblance. Bucky unashamedly groaned, mouth full.

"Steve, these are  _delicious,_ " Bucky said as soon as he swallowed. "How the hell did you do this?"

Steve laughed, taking a cookie for himself. They really did turn out nicely - cookies were usually Steve's strong point. What made them better, however, was how much Bucky enjoyed them. If he took pride in his baking before, it was tripled now that he saw the effect his own work had on Bucky.

He really would have to thank his Ma later.

* * *

 Steve had spent an hour dragging Sam and Nat around the mall now, in search of a Christmas present for Bucky.

"You know, Steve, it wouldn't be the end of the world if you didn't get him a gift," Nat said coolly.

"I know," Steve groaned. "But I  _want_ to get him a gift."

"Can you  _afford_ a gift?" Sam asked, arching an eyebrow.

Steve turned around to eye him. " _Yes_ ," he said defiantly, before slumping his shoulders. "... No."

"Exactly. And Bucky knows and understands that, so he won't expect anything from you. Just be with him, kid."

"Or," Natasha chimed in, "you could draw him something."

"And seem like a one trick pony?" asked Steve. "He already knows I drew you for your birthday."

"And I loved it, didn't I?"

"Well, that's what you told me..."

Natasha whacked Steve's shoulder. "I did. And he loves your art, doesn't he?"

"I guess," Steve sighed.

Steve would never admit it, but it was true. Bucky gushed endlessly about Steve's art. Steve himself never really saw it as that great, but it made him happy how amazed Bucky seemed to be by it.

What he didn't know, however, was that Bucky was just amazed by damn near everything about that kid.

"So does that settle it?" Natasha asked. Steve took a noncommittal look around the mall from where they were standing. 

He wasn't going to draw anything for Bucky. He had an even better idea.

"Yeah. That settles it."

"Good, now let's go get that pretzel you promised for dragging me out here."

* * *

 "Clint, do you think he'd like watercolor or acrylic more?"

Bucky had dragged Clint to the mall in search of the perfect Christmas present for Steve. They'd only been dating for a few months, but, Goddammit, he was getting the kid the best he could find.

"I don't know, Buck. He's your boyfriend."

Bucky didn't seem to hear Clint. "Or maybe he'd just like these colored pencils better..."

Bucky was starting to get frustrated. This would be going a hell of a lot easier if he knew a single thing about art supplies.

"Does he even paint?" Bucky asked out loud, though more to himself. "I could get him brushes, but I don't know if he paints..."

Clint wandered off by now, eyeing the shelves upon shelves of different pencils and markers. Jesus Christ, he didn't even know you could  _make_ pencils in that many colors.

"Maybe I can get him a real nice sketchpad instead. Leather bound. Maybe pocket size? I know he likes to doodle when he's not home..."

Bucky groaned, overwhelmed by the sheer selection. How the hell did Steve choose between  _any_ of this? How did any artist?

Clint came around the corner, holding a pack of charcoal sticks. "People actually use charcoal for art? Like, for real?"

"Oh, my God, Clint. I'm about to go crazy. I have no damn idea what to get him."

Clint paused for a second, looking back and forth between the charcoal in his hand and Bucky. He lifted the pack up to eye level, offering with a shrug.

"I don't think he uses charcoal, Clint."

"How do you know?" Asked Clint, raising his eyebrows.

"I don't know if he paints, I don't know what kind of pencils he prefers..." Bucky sighed, disappointment hitting quickly. "I just wanna get him something nice."

"Well, maybe he doesn't paint  _yet_ but wants to. Maybe he hasn't been able to get the supplies yet."

Bucky looked around. "Where would I even  _start_ _?_ _"_

Clint shrugged again. "Paint brushes seem like a pretty important part of painting."

Clint had a point. Bucky looked around the store again, determination renewed.

He wasn't walking out of here without a gift for Steve.

* * *

Bucky looked at the pile of gifts for Steve in his room, preparing to wrap them as best he could. He had a pack of 10 paint brushes, three separate packages of different paint types - watercolor, acrylic, oil - all in basic rainbow colors, two 5" x 7" canvases and one 8" x 8".

So he might have gone a little overboard.

He really couldn't help himself. He wanted to treat Steve as much as he plausibly could for this Christmas. He made sure to gather a broad enough range of supplies so that if Steve didn't like one medium, he had two more to his disposal. Bucky just knew that Steve was going to create beautiful art with these. In Bucky's eyes, Steve  _was_ beautiful art. And he tried finding new ways every day to make sure that Steve knew that.

Armed with scissors and wrapping paper and bows and ribbons, he was ready to present Steve's gifts in the prettiest ways possible. He could hardly wait for Christmas dinner the next day, when Steve and Sarah will be there with him and his family. He'd give Steve his presents after their meal, when everyone else would be busy conversing.

God, this was going to be the best Christmas in a while.

* * *

Steve and Sarah walked up the front steps to the Barnes household. Steve, bundled up in a thick winter coat and scarf, knocked lightly on the door. They were greeted by Bucky.

"Hey guys!" Bucky beamed when he opened the door. "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Rogers! Merry Christmas, Stevie! Come in, you're just in time for dinner."

Bucky stepped to the side to allow Steve and Sarah entrance, then gently closed the door behind them. Bucky helped Steve out of his coat and scarf, hanging them up on the coatrack. All bundled up in a chunky knit sweater with a t-shirt underneath, nose and cheeks red from the cold wind and flurries in his golden hair, Steve was just about the cutest thing Bucky had ever laid eyes on. He wrapped Steve up in a tight hug. 

"Merry Christmas, Bucky," Steve giggled into Bucky's shoulder, and Bucky melted even more. He let go of Steve as he undid his snow boots, thick, fuzzy socks landing on wood laminate. Bucky noticed Steve was holding a small Christmas bag, the contents of which Bucky couldn't make out. Steve walked over to the Christmas tree and placed it gently underneath, the only gift there as the Barnes family had already opened their gifts that morning.

Mrs. and Mr. Barnes came out of the kitchen together, carrying big dishes to the dining table with oven mitts. They both beamed when they saw Steve and Sarah.

"I'm so glad you two could make it," exclaimed Mrs. Barnes.

"Thank you so much again for inviting us," Sarah sighed happily. "Is there anything I can help you out with?"

Mrs. Barnes swatted a hand. "Don't be ridiculous, you're our  _guest._ Please, take a seat, we're bringing the food and plates out now."

Bucky put his hand out for Steve to grab, and hand-in-hand, they made their way over to their seats at the dinner table. Steve was nothing but smiles and laughs right now, and Sarah wouldn't have had it any other way. She would be eternally grateful to Bucky for how happy he made her son in the few months he'd known him so far.

Dinner passed what felt like quickly, but was actually over an hour long. There was no shortage of uproarious laughter during dinner conversation, and by the end of the meal, everyone was left with a fuller stomach than they could handle. But so was the luxury of big Christmas dinners.

As soon as everyone got up to put their dirty dishes away, Bucky took the chance to steal Steve away immediately. Grabbing him by the hand, Bucky led Steve to his room. As soon as they were inside, Bucky excitedly leapt over to his bedside to turn his lamp on, and Steve gasped at the sight in front of him.

On top of Bucky's bed was a beautifully wrapped and presented pile of Christmas presents. Two square-shaped gifts were stacked on top of each other, kept together by a thick red ribbon. A slightly smaller stack of three gifts were presented much the same way, but each one had a different wrapping paper, a big red bow adorning the top. There were two other gifts to the side, one moderate in size and the other larger than the rest.

"Bucky, are these all for me?" Asked Steve, hand covering his mouth slightly. 

"You bet, Stevie."

"Bucky, you shouldn't have..." Steve said, slowly walking to the foot of Bucky's bed to admire more closely the pile.

"Yes, I should have. You deserve it, Steve." 

Steve looked up at Bucky with his big, baby-blue eyes, long eyelashes fluttering beautifully. He looked like he was ready to cry, and he hadn't even opened the gifts yet. Bucky felt unreasonably warm inside.

"Well, go ahead, kid. Tear 'em up."

Steve seemed at a loss as to where to start, but eventually he decided on the smaller stack of three. He took off the bow, gently untied the ribbon, and started at unwrapping the first gift. He looked up at Bucky as he did so, smiling nervously. When he finally got the paper off, his eyes widened.

"Oh, Bucky..."

Bucky grinned. "Keep goin'."

Steve took the next in the stack, tearing this one a little faster. By the time he finished unwrapping all three, he couldn't contain his excitement. 

"Oh, my God, Bucky. How did you know?"

"I just wanted to help out my little artist," Bucky beamed. "Come on, Stevie. There's more where that came from."

Steve opened the paintbrushes next, hand covering his mouth again. "Oh man, Bucky..."

Bucky's smile was insanely large now. "Three more."

Steve unwrapped the 5" x 7" canvases now, tears officially welling in his eyes. By the time he opened the 8" x 8", he was fully in tears, sniffling slightly.

"God, Bucky. All for me?"

"All for you, Stevie." Steve leaned over and hugged Bucky tighter than he has yet.

"Thank you so much, Bucky. You don't even know how much this means to me. My gift to you is gonna seem like crap compared to this..."

Bucky rubbed Steve's back softly. "Aw, come on now. I know I'm gonna love it if it's from you." He let go from Steve, who left two little wet marks on the shoulder of Bucky's sweater where he'd been crying. Bucky cupped Steve's cheek in his hand, gently wiping a falling tear from Steve's face with his thumb.

"Your gift is under the tree, if you wanna go grab it and bring it over."

Bucky got up from his bed, turning the corner from the hallway to the living room to grab the bag Steve left. Everyone else was chatting in the kitchen, so Bucky came and went undetected.

He padded back into his room, Steve was bent over the pile of gifts, inspecting the brushes and various paints. He snapped his head back up when he heard Bucky walk in.

"So, it's nothing compared to this, but I just thought it would make you happy when you needed it..." Steve explained as Bucky settled back on his bed, taking a slightly heavy object out of the bag. It was wrapped surprisingly neatly for it's shape, one sheet of paper pulled over the top and tied with a ribbon, where it fanned out. Bucky undid the ribbon, letting the paper undo itself in his hand. He could never have prepared himself for what it revealed.

Inside a glass jar were a multitude of small pieces of paper, all folded up to fit inside and not turn into a wrinkled mess. Bucky carefully opened the lid of the jar, grabbing a piece of paper and unfolding it. There were tiny stars scattered around the edges, surrounding the message in the middle, in Steve's neat handwriting:  _Your smile.  
_

"Each piece of paper has my favorite things about you written on them. My idea was that, if you were ever feeling down, or you weren't feeling confident in yourself, or just needed some cheering up and I wasn't there, you could shake the jar and take a piece of paper out to remind you of everything that's good about you. It wasn't hard to fill the jar. There's almost too many good things about you."

Bucky felt the hot tears rising to his eyes as he read more of the papers, their contents ranging from ' _Your laugh'_ to ' _Your dedication'_. Bucky left them in his lap as he pulled Steve into a ferocious hug. Now  _he_ was the one leaving tears on Steve's sweater.

"God, Steve," Bucky said into Steve's shoulder, squeezing him tighter than ever. "What did I do to deserve you?"

Steve's answer came swiftly and simply.

"Be you."

* * *

Less than a week later, New Year's Eve arrived, the Barnes and Rogers families together once again for the occasion. However, unlike their Christmas get-together, this meeting was much more lower-key, everyone opting instead to enjoy a quiet night together as they waited for the clock to strike 12.

They wouldn't be waiting long, as it was already 11:55 PM.

Everyone stood outside, watching the fireworks overhead. Bucky and Steve stood closely together, hand in hand, Bucky pointing in various directions whenever there was a particular explosion he wanted Steve to see. 

Neither Steve nor Bucky could have chosen a better way to usher in the new year than to be here together, under the stars and fireworks, surrounded by everyone they loved.

Including each other.

"11:57," Mr. Barnes called, looking at his watch. Sarah and Mrs. Barnes chatted away as they watched the fireworks, Bucky's sisters goofing off next to them.

"This year couldn't have gone any better," Steve whispered to Bucky, squeezing his hand slightly. "It brought me to you."

"11:58," Mr. Barnes shouted.

Bucky looked down at Steve fondly, smiling that big grin Steve loved. "I couldn't agree more, Stevie."

They fell back into a comfortable silence, returning to watch the fireworks, until Mr. Barnes exclaimed, "11:59!"

"You know, Steve," Bucky whispered, the heat rising in his cheeks. "I think I'm in love with you, kid."

Steve stared up at him for a minute, processing the words that just came out of Bucky's mouth. Then, his expression softened, extending his arms to wrap them gently around Bucky's neck. His eyes pierced straight to Bucky's heart.

"Well, it's a good thing for you that I feel the same way..." Steve whispered, leaning closer into Bucky.

"Happy New Year!" Erupted everyone around them as Bucky kissed Steve, slow and deep, gentle but fierce. The fireworks picked up overhead, reaching their climax. Steve pulled away slowly, Bucky continuing to plant kisses on Steve's cheeks, nose, forehead.

"Happy New Year, punk," Bucky breathed, grinning as he rested his forehead against Steve's. Steve rubbed the back of Bucky's neck lightly, hand brushing softly through his hair.

"Happy New Year, jerk."


	12. That's A Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Everyone raised a glass, shouting "To Bucky!" in unison. Mrs. Barnes wiped a couple tears away as she stood next to Mr. Barnes. Sarah came up behind Steve, rubbing his back gently.
> 
> "He'll be back before you know it," she whispered to him.
> 
> But he didn't wanna have to wait."

The last year passed in the most dizzying blur of adoration and pure, bubbly happiness. Bucky and Steve became closer than anyone could have anticipated, helping each other through countless hardships and being there for triumphant moments. Now, over a year since they first met, Steve found himself there for Bucky's next life milestone.

Bucky's army enlistment.

It had been a little over a week since Bucky graduated from high school, and now, after tonight, Bucky would be sent off in a bus to Camp LeHigh, where he'd receive his army training.

The Barnes family, being the Barnes family, was throwing Bucky a farewell party. All of Bucky's closest friends and family, including Sarah, Steve, Nat, Sam, and Clint, were all attending, helping give Bucky the send-off he deserved.

But Steve wished he didn't have to be sent off.

As guests loitered around in the living room, Bucky talking to a small group of relatives, Mr. Barnes tapped his champagne glass with a fork to get everyone's attention.

"I'd like to propose a toast to my son," announced Mr. Barnes, clearing his throat. Bucky turned around to face his dad, a small smile on his lips.

"Bucky, when you were born, your mother and I thought you were just about the most incredible thing on two legs. And since that moment, you have yet to ever prove us otherwise."

Bucky looked at his feet abashedly, scratching the back of his neck. Steve couldn't help but stare at Bucky, sharply dressed with his hair slicked back neatly. He looked absolutely dashing.

"When you were only 5 years old, when asked what you wanted to be when you grew up, you said, 'I want to be like you, Daddy.' Now, by then, all you had known was that I fought bad guys. But, evidently, you didn't change much from 13 years ago, did you?" The guests laughed softly. Mr. Barnes paused, looking pensively at the guests, lips pursed.

"James, if you're even half the young man we've come to know and adore in these 18 short, wonderful years as a soldier, there's no doubt in my mind that you'll be the best the army's ever seen. Raise a glass to my son, our very own military man."

Everyone raised a glass, shouting "To Bucky!" in unison. Mrs. Barnes wiped a couple tears away as she stood next to Mr. Barnes. Sarah came up behind Steve, rubbing his back gently.

"He'll be back before you know it," she whispered to him.

But he didn't wanna have to wait.

* * *

It was the day after Bucky graduated when he told Steve he enlisted. They lay together on Steve's bed, Steve curled up into Bucky's side, head rested on his chest.

"How do you feel?" Asked Steve, hand on top of Bucky. "You're a free man now."

"Well, free from high school, at least..." Replied Bucky. Steve loved the feeling of the vibrations of Bucky speaking on his ear, but his reply confused him. He hoisted himself up from his position, one hand on either side of Bucky's chest, looking him in the eye.

"What do you mean?"

Bucky paused for a minute, maintaining eye contact. Steve was getting nervous.

"I'm joining the army, Stevie."

Steve blanched. He felt like his stomach jolted upwards into his throat. 

"You're  _what?"_

"Please don't get upset, Steve..." Bucky's eyes were apologetic.

"I'm not  _upset,_ I'm- I'm-..." Steve stammered, face scrunched up in confusion. He sighed dejectedly. "I'm upset, Bucky."

Bucky rubbed up and down on Steve's bony arm. "This feels like the right choice for me, Stevie. I want you to understand that."

Steve leaned back, crossing his legs underneath him. He looked so small, holding his ankles with both hands, looking down at his lap. 

"I won't be gone forever," whispered Bucky.

Steve looked back up at Bucky, who propped himself up against the wall behind Steve's bed. "But what if you are?" Steve asked, so quiet it was almost inaudible.

"Hey, come on, Stevie, don't think like that-"

"Bucky, it's just," Steve began, face scrunched up as if he was in pain. "You're the best thing to happen to me.... Probably ever. And if something happened to you..."

"Stevie, Stevie, listen," Bucky said, gently grabbing either side of Steve's angular face. "I feel good about this. This feels  _right_ for me. And I'm not gonna let anything happen to me. Not when I've got my best guy waiting for me at home." He leaned in to kiss Steve so, so gently, and yet with so much affection. Steve breathed all his tension out into the kiss, tense shoulders unwinding. Steve pulled away, grabbing Bucky's wrist.

"Is that a promise, James?" Asked Steve. Bucky chuckled slightly at the use of his real name. Steve referred to him as Bucky usually, but he had a fondness for his first name. He saved it for the really serious moments, like this one. It reminded Bucky of his mother.

Bucky wiped a tear that fell from Steve's eye with his thumb before pulling Steve into a hug.

"That's a promise."

* * *

After another hour of festivities, guests filtered out slowly, wishing their good fortunes and farewells on Bucky and the Barnes family.

"I'm gonna head home now, Stevie," said Natasha as she grabbed her bag. "I'll talk to you later, okay kid?"

Steve nodded slightly, waving Natasha off as she left. Sarah walked over to Steve next, after having chatted and said goodbyes to Mr. and Mrs. Barnes.

"You okay?" She whispered, rubbing Steve's shoulder.

"Yeah," Steve nodded. "You go on home. I'll be there in a bit."

"Okay," Sarah replied, pulling on her purse. "Take your time, sweetie," Sarah said, placing a peck on Steve's cheek before walking off.

Steve waited 10 or so more minutes as the rest of the guests finally left, and he had his chance to talk to Bucky again for the last time in... He wasn't sure how long.

Bucky walked over to Steve slowly, both hands in his pockets. He was smiling slightly, but his eyes hid a certain sadness. "Wanna go outside?"

Steve nodded, taking Bucky's hand when he held it out. Bucky opened the front door, and Steve was taken aback by the uncharacteristic warmth of the night. They sat down side by side on the front steps to Bucky's apartment, simply staring quietly at the night sky for a minute.

Steve broke the silence first.

"I'm gonna miss you," he intoned, looking down at his hands clasped between his legs. He was sure that if he looked at Bucky right now, he'd break down in tears. That was one thing Steve always hated: Crying in front of people. Not out of any misplaced sense of masculinity, but he found himself an ugly crier, all runny nose and face scrunched up. He hated being seen in such a messy state.

"I'm gonna miss you, too, punk."

Steve didn't know what to say. He'd never really had to say goodbye to anyone before.

"You really wanna do this, huh, Buck?" Steve felt Bucky nodding next to him.

"I really do. I wanna do some good out there, Stevie. Protect people like my family. Like you and your Ma."

Underneath all the damn sadness, Steve really was proud of Bucky. He was going out there, doing everything Steve couldn't. Bucky always said that Steve was the brave one, but deep down, Steve only felt small.

Bucky grabbed Steve's hand, squeezing it tightly. "I'm gonna think about you every day I'm out there, you know that?"

Steve looked up at Bucky sadly, then laid his head on Bucky's shoulder. "I'm gonna think about you, too."

"'Cause I'm with you till the end of the line, kid. I don't want you to doubt that for a second." Bucky watched as a tear fell down onto his dress shirt, then felt the vibrations against his side from Steve speaking.

"'Till the end of the line, Bucky," Steve croaked. God, he was the worst kind of choked up, when your throat was all tight and you could barely get a word out. "Just please don't make that too long."

Bucky pressed a gentle kiss to Steve's hair, laying his own head on Steve's. "I promise, Captain."

Steve chuckled softly despite himself at the use of Bucky's sometimes nickname for him. Steve gave Bucky many commands over time, most of them along the lines of 'stay safe' or 'be careful, you're gonna get hurt.' Eventually Bucky started calling him Captain jokingly. It stuck.

Steve was gonna really miss hearing Bucky call him Captain.

Bucky and Steve stayed like that for as long as they could, leaning against each other, listening to the distant rumble of night time traffic. Steve savored it as best he could, because when he woke up the next morning, Bucky would already be gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end, I promise! I'm planning maybe 2 or 3 more chapters, depending. Once again, thank you all for reading this far, and I hope you enjoy this chapter. (My apologies for how short it is compared to the previous chapter!)


	13. Pictures of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Not a day passed that Bucky didn't cross Steve's mind. It was harder some days than others. Not knowing where Bucky was, what he was doing, how he was doing... It was driving Steve crazy. On tougher days, when he missed Bucky so much he felt an ache in the pit of his stomach, he was glad to have kept a hoodie that Bucky lent him when they first started dating. It was losing Bucky's smell the more Steve wore it, but it was Bucky's, he had been there, and that was enough for him. Or so he told himself."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this took a little while to post, but I hope you guys like it! Also, this chapter is titled after the song of the same name by The Cure.

**One Year Later**

'Vogue' by Madonna played on the small radio in the kitchen of Bella Giornata as Steve wiped down the counters and shelves.  _You got to, let your body, move to the music_ , it sang at him, and, by God, he was trying. He just had to finish wiping down the sink and he'd be done for the day. He could be doing harder work, he had to admit. All he really had to do was come in and sweep, wipe down the surfaces, take out the trash. Someone with his conditions couldn't do much without getting tired, and the manager understood that, but was kind enough to hire Steve anyway. "Where the hell else are you supposed to get a job?"

He was fresh out of high school, having just graduated a few months ago. The moment he was done, he knew he had to pick up some kind of work. He couldn't just leave his Ma hanging anymore. Even if a job like this didn't pay much, it was still more than what they had before. And, with this added few bucks to his pocket, he could afford to treat himself to something nice (but small) for his birthday tomorrow. He really just wanted to grab some new paints. He was  _completely_ out of the ones Bucky gave him for Christmas a while back. 

Bucky.

Not a day passed that Bucky didn't cross Steve's mind. It was harder some days than others. Not knowing where Bucky was, what he was doing,  _how_ he was doing... It was driving Steve crazy. On tougher days, when he missed Bucky so much he felt an ache in the pit of his stomach, he was glad to have kept a hoodie that Bucky lent him when they first started dating. It was losing Bucky's smell the more Steve wore it, but it was Bucky's, he had  _been there_ , and that was enough for him. Or so he told himself.

"I'm off now, Dante," Steve called as he threw the rag back with the cleaning supplies. "See you Tuesday."

See, if it were up to Steve, he would have worked on his birthday. It's not like it took a majority of his day. He came in at noon, stayed to help clean, and left in the afternoon. It was easy work. But Sarah  _insisted._ Not because of any plans up her sleeve, but she refused to let him not allow himself a day of rest. He worked nearly every day. He deserved this one Monday, his  _birthday_ (which just happened to land on The Fourth of July), to himself. And God knows, he couldn't say no to his Ma. 

While most other kids his age were getting ready for college in the fall, prepared to work a part-time job and juggle schoolwork at the same time, college wasn't even a blip on Steve's radar right now. Sure, he planned on going when he could, but he had his Ma to help out, and funds to gather. College could wait. It's not like there was a time limit to becoming an art major.

Steve thought about the day he graduated, how ever so slightly his happiness was watered down by Bucky's absence. It didn't ruin the day for him but, God, it didn't improve it either. He was eternally grateful that he had such wonderful friends, such an amazing Ma, all who helped him after the first few weeks that Bucky was deployed, when he was too sad to eat some days. Too sad to listen to his favorite music, too sad to draw or paint. But none of them, Sam, Nat, or his Ma, none of them allowed Steve to wallow, none of them stood by and watched him willingly not partake in his own life. He had gone almost 18 years without Bucky, and he was going to keep going without Bucky.

But he sure wouldn't have minded to have him here now, when his birthday was the next day.

Steve didn't like to let anyone on to it, out of fear of burdening anyone further, but he was prone to these depressive moods quite often. Not all the time, but enough that when it hit... It hit hard. And Bucky leaving was one of those times. Nobody else knew, and he would never admit to it, but Steve developed the habit of writing letters to Bucky without the intention of ever sending them as a way to help him cope. They ranged anywhere from being about the mundane to talking about anything that was plaguing him with worry, or just talking about how much he missed him. He missed seeing Bucky every day. He missed hearing his voice. He missed his smile. 

He could go on.

Steve thought about the first - and so far, only - birthday he spent with Bucky. Bucky insisted on taking Steve to Coney Island, asking Sam and Nat to tag along as well. Steve couldn't remember a time when he felt more absolutely pampered by anyone than on that day. If Bucky thought he saw Steve so much as show interest in something, he insisted on buying it for him. He didn't even try to convince Steve to ride the Cyclone with him. "Maybe for  _my_ birthday," Bucky joked.

To finish it off, as night fell, they all sat on the beach, Bucky and Steve wrapped up in a blanket together, and watched the far off fireworks in the sky. Steve knew they weren't for him, but Bucky made a damn good job of making him feel like they were. And inside, Steve had felt like fireworks were going off, bright, incandescent bursts of happiness exploding within him. 

Now Steve only felt bored.

* * *

Steve's birthday was spent peacefully, quietly, him choosing to stay in with his Ma for the day. Mr. and Mrs. Barnes were kind enough to drop by during lunch time to wish Steve a happy birthday and give him his birthday present from them: A copy of Emma by Jane Austen. Not many people knew it, but Steve was a voracious reader. He didn't own many books, though, choosing instead to simply borrow them from the library. And, of course, they got the gift just right. Victorian literature was one of Steve's favorite guilty pleasure genres.

By dinner time, Natasha and Sam dropped by to join Steve and Sarah for the meal. After they finished, Natasha gestured to Steve to follow her to his room.

"What's up, Nat?" Asked Steve as he closed the door a smidge behind him. Natasha was already sitting on the edge of his bed, and Sam sat in his desk chair.

"I brought a gift for you," Natasha sing-songed. She waved a small, square shaped box in her hand, prettily wrapped in a blue paper with a red ribbon, with a cheeky grin on her face.

"Aw, you shouldn't have," Steve cooed as he sat down next to her. Sam chuckled.

"Just wait till you open it, buddy."

Natasha shifted her position a bit, one leg underneath her as the other still hung off the edge of the bed, body facing Steve. "So, do you remember last year when you, me, Bucky, and Sam, went to Coney Island for your birthday?"

"How could I forget?"

"Well, do you remember how I brought my camera along?"

Steve chuckled softly. "Vaguely." 

"Okay, well..." Natasha looked at the box in her hands, then held it out for Steve. "Here, open this."

Steve grabbed the box from Natasha's hand and began tentatively unwrapping it. He opened the small box to find... Polaroids. Eyebrows knitting together, he grabbed the small stack out of the box to sift through the photos. At first he was confused when all he saw were a couple polaroids of himself walking or staring off at something in the distance, but soon felt that familiar burning in his eyes when he came across a photo of him and Bucky from behind, walking with Bucky's arm around his shoulder as Bucky pointed enthusiastically at something for Steve to see, and he realized: they were the photos Natasha took of them two years ago today, during their trip to Coney Island.

"I hadn't really planned on doing anything with them, and I almost forgot I had them, but when I found the stack in my desk drawer... Well, I know how much you miss him, Stevie," Natasha explained softly, placing a hand on Steve's knee. "I thought you'd appreciate these."

Steve nodded, wiping a tear from his eye with the back of his hand before it had the chance to fall. He was still looking through the pictures; one of Bucky walking backwards on the boardwalk next to Steve, facing Natasha and flashing a goofy face with both thumbs up, one of simply just Bucky and Steve's intertwined hands hanging between them as they walked. One of Bucky staring at Steve while he wasn't looking, his expression seeming as if he'd never seen anything so dazzling before in his life.

"I love these, Nat," Steve whispered, choked up. "God, I miss him."

Natasha pulled Steve into a hug, patting his back. "I know, Steve. I hope these help some."

After Natasha and Sam left, Steve decided to work on a project before going to bed. He pinned some string to the wall behind his bed, extending to and from either side of the wall, and hung the polaroids on the string with clips. When he was finally done, he flopped on his bed, head resting at the foot of his mattress, and admired his handiwork. Admired the photos.

Admired him and Bucky, together.

* * *

  _July 5, 1990_

_Dear Bucky,_

_Your Ma and Pa are doing well. Mrs. Barnes comes by on the weekends to chat with my Ma. Sometimes Rebecca tags along, and we just listen to music in my room. You know she wants to be a nurse? She decided she wants to go to medical school. Your Ma and Pa couldn't be more proud. She starts this fall._

_My birthday was yesterday. There really isn't much to say beyond the usual. I miss you. I keep saying it, but it never stops being true. Christ, you haven't even been gone that long. I'm a mess, Buck. You're making me a mess._

_Come home soon, okay? We miss you. Rebecca misses you. She doesn't say it, but I can tell. Your family is so proud of you, but they miss you. Don't make us wait too long._

_As always,_

_Steve_

_P.S. Just wait till you see what I have up in my room. Do you remember how Natasha brought her camera a couple years ago, when we went to Coney Island for my birthday? Well, that's all I'm gonna say of that. You just have to see for yourself._


	14. It's About Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off: I'm very sorry about how short this chapter is. I guess this one is a bit more transitional. I promise the next chapter will be longer, more substantial. And also, sorry for how long this took to post. It's been a long week so far.  
> Secondly...

The clock struck four, and Steve knew it was time to leave work. Hanging up his apron on the wall hook, he grabbed his messenger bag and exited through the back. The day was hot, but the hottest point had already passed, so walking in this weather was the slightest bit more bearable. Walking at a slow pace, he closed his eyes and lifted his chin up a bit as a cool breeze wafted by. There was a certain unsettling chill in the air, highly unusual for the time of year, but Steve was grateful for it nonetheless.

As Steve approached home, he was confused to see Mrs. Barnes waiting by the steps, features marred by fatigue. Concern bubbling in his chest, he picked up his pace to make it to her faster.

"Mrs. Barnes, are you alright?" Asked Steve, gripping the strap of his bag tightly. Mrs. Barnes simply shook her head sadly, seemingly too struck by grief to answer. Steve began to panic.

"What is it? Is it Mr. Barnes? Rebecca? My Ma?"

When Mrs. Barnes still didn't reply, now pinching the bridge of her nose, Steve felt his heart drop down to his stomach. 

"Oh, my God..." Whispered Steve in disbelief. "Is it Bucky?" 

Mrs. Barnes began to cry.

"Mrs. Barnes, has something happened to Bucky?"

Mrs. Barnes threw her arms around Steve, gasping. "Oh, Steven! We're going to miss him so much."

Steve felt like time was moving in slow-motion as Mrs. Barnes sobbed into his shoulder. She hadn't said it, but he  _knew_ , and he knew Bucky should never have left, and he knew that he was watching the world,  _his_ world, fall apart around him.

And then he woke up.

Gasping, clutching at his comforter, he woke with a start, sweat beading on his forehead. He scrambled to grab his inhaler off his bedside table, giving it a few shakes before pumping and taking long, deep breaths. He sat upright in his bed, breathing slowly, working on getting his heartbeat back to an acceptable rate. He couldn't stand the feeling of soaring blood pressure, the palpable rush in his veins, like he was vibrating.

For a minute, he basked in the relief of waking up. It was a less than ideal way to wake up, but, God, at least it was just a dream.

He pulled his comforter back, shivering slightly as his skinny legs were exposed to the draft from the ceiling fan. He knew he should be getting out of bed to shower, but he couldn't help himself as he pulled his legs against his chest, resting his chin on his knees. He wanted to cry. That dream was all he was going to think about for the rest of the day.

Bucky was all he was going to think about for the rest of the day.

* * *

"Really, Sally, I'm fine," Steve sighed.

"Are you sure? You don't look fine."

Steve snorted. "Do I ever?"

After getting hired, Steve (unexpectedly) made friends with the very waitress that served him and Bucky on their first date. A pretty African-American girl, about two years older than Steve, she lit up when she first noticed Steve working there. On their first full day working together, she peppered Steve with questions between lulls about him and Bucky. Privy to the nature of their relationship, she seemed genuinely saddened when Steve informed her that Bucky had enlisted the previous year. Since then, however, they've become good enough friends, and Steve was grateful to have someone to talk to at work.

"You looked fine enough for Bucky to notice you," Sally retorted. When Steve remained silent, however, is when realization dawned on her face.

"Oh, no," she whispered. "Is it about Bucky?"

Steve sniffed, focused on sweeping. "Was just a bad dream, is all."

Sally patted Steve's shoulder gently. "Well, if you need to talk, you know where to find me."

Steve gave a noncommittal nod, still focused on the task at hand. He was grateful that Sally was concerned, really, but it was hard for him to bring himself to vent to anyone. Even Bucky had to pry it out of him, most of the time. Usually, he just preferred to bottle it up, and bottle it up, and bottle it up...

For the rest of his work day, he tried keeping his head in his job as much as he could to avoid thinking about the dream. The nightmare succeeded in unleashing all the anxieties that Steve had heretofore managed to keep more or less tamed. In the back of his head, he was always waiting for it: Mrs. Barnes in tears at his front door, informing him that Bucky had been killed or otherwise injured in action. He knew it was unreasonable (was it?), and he knew stressing would change nothing, but still it whispered at night when he tried to sleep, malicious in its intent and effect. It made him wonder how your own mind was capable of turning on you so viciously.

The restaurant was closing early that day, so when their shift was over, Sally offered to take Steve to the ice cream parlor. "C'mon, kid, you look like you could use a scoop."

Steve accepted graciously, a scoop of some chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream sounding like just the thing he needed, especially in this weather.

They spent about an hour in the parlor, this being their first chance to interact outside of their workplace. They were both artists; Sally was working as a waitress to help put herself through art school, hoping to become an illustrator. She was an only child, like Steve, and both her parents were elementary school teachers. Before long, though, Sally had to leave to get ready to meet some friends. Steve thanked her for the ice cream, and they both parted ways.

Steve set off towards home, hoping the walk back would help clear his mind a bit. Absorbing the sunshine, breathing in the fresh air; it always helped to calm him down a bit.

When he got home, he put a kettle on the stove to make some tea. Generally, he didn't drink much tea or coffee, but he liked to make some Earl Grey when he was feeling really anxious. Sarah wasn't home yet, and wouldn't be for another hour or so, so he planned on sitting in his room and finishing a painting.

He was glad to have a moment to himself to breathe, to unwind, to process his feelings without the pretense from being around others. It wasn't that he meant to, but he always found himself concealing  _something_ while in the presence of others, even if he wasn't sure what it was in the first place. As if he was acting like a version of himself around others.

He exhaled deeply when he sat down at his desk, tilting his head back. He sat there for a minute, eyes closed, enjoying the silence of the room, the whole house.

Until he heard a knock at the door.

He sat up with a start, looking at his clock. It couldn't be Sarah, and he wasn't expecting anyone. He walked over to the front door, leaning his head against it as he put his hand on the lock. "Who is it?"

Mrs. Barnes' voice answered on the other side. "Steven, it's me."

Steve couldn't have opened the door faster. He gulped, eyes wide as he waited for Mrs. Barnes to elaborate. She looked a mess, eyes bloodshot and hair pulled back in a loose ponytail.

"It's about Bucky, Steven..."

* * *

 

It struck Sarah as odd that when she came home, the apartment was quiet. "Steve?" She called, locking the door behind her. Kicking off her shoes, she padded over to the hallway, to find Steve's door closed. She tapped lightly.

"Stevie, honey, are you in there?"

All she heard in response was a choked sob.

She quickly flung the door open, walking in to find Steve huddled up in his desk chair, face wet from crying. "Steve, baby, what's the matter?" She asked, kneeling down in front of his seat.

"It's Bucky," Steve gasped, breath hiccuping. "He got hurt. Lost his arm. Mrs. Barnes told me."

Sarah covered her mouth slightly, shocked at the news. "Oh, Stevie, come here," She whispered, standing up and opening her arms for him. He accepted the offer quickly.

"They don't know when he'll be ready to come back, or if anything else happened yet," Steve sobbed into her shoulder. "I just hope he'll be okay, Ma. I'm so scared."

Sarah rubbed his back gently. "Shh, it'll be alright, Stevie. They're getting him help."

After managing to calm Steve back down, she realized dinner needed to be cooked. 

"Come help me, sweetie, you need to focus on something."

Steve nodded slightly, eyes puffy and red, as he followed her into the kitchen. So many thoughts were running through his head at once, he was sure he was going to lose his mind. He could use the small distraction.

He let himself fall into the easy rhythm of chopping vegetables, measuring ingredients, and mixing. They were making a ziti, one of Steve's favorites. He was grateful beyond belief to have his mother at a time like this, or else he wasn't sure what he would be doing right now.

All he knew was that Bucky needed to be home with them as soon as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry, Bucky.


	15. I'm Right Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There he was, cross-legged on his bed, the sunlight filtering through his window casting him in a golden glow. He turned his head to look at Steve, and the moment their eyes met, Steve knew. The bright-eyed boy Steve saw the night before he left, face full with hope and eyes soft with tenderness, wasn't there anymore. Bucky wore a slight frown, bags under his bloodshot eyes. He was tired."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is!! There's only one chapter left after this! Also, I must say: this chapter is tonally very different from the rest of the fic. But that's because this story really became its own beast as I wrote it. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know what you think!

It was a month before Bucky was cleared to come home.

Honorably discharged with no medals, condition stabilized, and worse for wear, he would finally return to Brooklyn on August 8. Steve felt an odd combination of joy and sadness; joy at Bucky finally coming back home, sadness that it had to be this way. Sadness for the path Bucky had in front of him now.

Steve wouldn't be seeing Bucky right away. He knew that already. Bucky needed time to settle, reacclimate, without the stress of too many people fussing over him all at once. Steve didn't mind waiting; he'd waited this long. He'd be lying, though, if he said he wasn't worried that Bucky wouldn't want to see him again. It made him feel selfish to think, but no matter how hard he tried to suppress the thoughts, that same malicious voice rose up again, stronger each time.

The plane was set to arrive at 1 PM, while Steve would be at work. He found it hard to focus on his tasks when all he could think about was Bucky, weary and wounded, but finally home, where he'd be safe. When Steve told Sally he was returning that day, she immediately pulled him into a tight hug.

"Steve, I'm so glad for you," she cooed. Steve snorted slightly.

"Thanks, but I'd be happier if it were under better circumstances. Like him  _not_ losing his arm."

Sally shrugged, tilting her head to the side. "Well, all that matters is he's coming home, safe and sound now. I'm sure with you, he'll find the strength he needs to heal."

The comment took Steve aback, the pure sincerity of it striking a chord within him. This girl had only known Steve a few months, but seemed so confident in the strength of his and Bucky's relationship based only on stories. It made him feel warm inside.

"Thank you, Sally. I needed to hear that today."

The day passed in the same humdrum way it usually does, even though it was anything but. Bucky was  _home_. After more than a year, Bucky was home again. Steve didn't know whether to cry from happiness or sadness. He would probably end up doing both.

Even so, he knew he couldn't spend the night alone tonight, or else he'd end up crawling up the walls. When he got home, he called Natasha up on the phone.

"Hey, Nat," he greeted, voice wobbly. "Would you wanna come over for the night? Pop in a movie and make some popcorn?"

Natasha didn't hesitate to accept, and in 30 minutes, she was at Steve's door with Jiffy Pop and a VHS copy of  _The Sound of Music_. Deep down, Natasha was a goddamn sap.

The two passed the night on the couch, eating through no shortage of snacks as Natasha enthusiastically belted along with the songs in the movie. During moments like these, Steve was grateful beyond belief to have a friend like Natasha. Not to mention, it had been far too long since they spent a night together like this. Even on his birthday, she and Sam came for dinner, and left right after giving Steve his present. They would become even more infrequent once she started college in a couple weeks.

"Steve, was Bucky your first kiss?" Natasha asked, biting down on a piece of popcorn. Steve turned to look at her, eyebrows knit together.

"Why? What, did he tell you something? Am I a bad kisser?"

Natasha giggled at Steve's reaction, doubling over slightly. "No, it's just a question."

"Yeah, well, I mean," Steve started, scratching the back of his neck. "Nobody was exactly lining up to kiss the scrawny bullied kid."

"Okay, but, isn't that pretty much what Bucky did?" Retorted Natasha with a grin. Steve opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again.

"People seem to like reminding me of that a lot lately," Steve muttered, smirking slightly. He still remembers their first kiss as if it happened yesterday. He remembered feeling like there wasn't anyone else he'd ever rather do it with. 

Steve wondered if Bucky remembered it the same way.

* * *

Steve, Nat, and Sarah were eating breakfast when Mrs. Barnes knocked on their door.

Sarah got up from the table to answer the door. Steve tried to make out their conversation, but between the distance from the table to the front door, and his bad hearing in one hear, it was a wasted effort.

However, when he saw Mrs. Barnes trailing into the room behind Sarah, he gulped and set his fork down.

"Steven, honey. Bucky's asking for you."

Steve's eyes darted from Mrs. Barnes to Sarah and back to Mrs. Barnes again. His heart was pounding.

"A-Asking for- Right now...?"

Mrs. Barnes shrugged slightly. "Or whenever you're ready, sweetheart-"

Steve was already up and out of his seat. "Nat, get home safely. Ma, I'll see you after work."

He was out of the door with Mrs. Barnes in no time, leaving Sarah still standing, mouth slightly ajar, and Natasha staring at the door, eyebrows raised.

Natasha looked up at Sarah, shrugging. "Well, when duty calls."

* * *

Steve could feel his pulse pounding in his chest, rushing through his ears. He was planning on waiting a week, at least. He didn't want to overwhelm Bucky. He didn't even think he would be a blip on his radar.

So as Mrs. Barnes walked him into their home, it took every fibre of Steve's being to not bolt towards Bucky's bedroom, and instead let Mrs. Barnes escort him there. After over a year of longing, waiting,  _hoping_ so damn bad he'd be back soon, Steve was finally going to come face to face with Bucky again.

His Bucky.

As he came around the corner to Bucky's bedroom door, he felt like he wanted to throw up. He took slow, measured breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Bucky's door was open a crack, so Mrs. Barnes tapped lightly to announce herself before opening it.

"Bucky, honey, Steve's here." No response came. Mrs. Barnes opened the door to let Steve in, and he felt his breath catch in his throat.

There he was, cross-legged on his bed, the sunlight filtering through his window casting him in a golden glow. He turned his head to look at Steve, and the moment their eyes met, Steve knew. The bright-eyed boy Steve saw the night before he left, face full with hope and eyes soft with tenderness, wasn't there anymore. Bucky wore a slight frown, bags under his bloodshot eyes. He was tired.

Mrs. Barnes closed the door behind Steve. The room filled with a heavy silence. Steve swallowed, but it was virtually nothing, his mouth was so dry.

"C'mere, Steve," Bucky murmured, lightly patting the space of bed in front of him. He was wearing a baggy blue sweatshirt, the left sleeve tied up in a knot, and sweatpants. Steve couldn't have made it around to the side of Bucky's bed fast enough. When Steve sat down, Bucky simply stared at him.

Until he pulled Steve into a tight hug with his right arm. Steve would have reciprocated if not for fear of accidentally hurting Bucky, so instead he wrapped his arms around Bucky's waist as much as he could.

"God, I missed you, Stevie," Bucky breathed shakily. Steve could feel Bucky begin to heave against him. "I thought about you every day." Steve began to cry, too.

"I missed you too, Buck. So much." They simply sat like that, crying into each other's shoulders, Bucky grip never wavering. When he did finally let go, he grabbed Steve's hand. It didn't seem to Steve he had much to say. He just wanted Steve there. Steve didn't know what to say anyway, so he didn't say anything.

Bucky started crying again, softer this time. It hurt Steve to watch. He'd never seen Bucky so... broken. So helpless before. He would have done anything to take Bucky's pain away.

"I'm so tired, Steve," Bucky sobbed. It was the tight, restrained kind of crying, where you knew there was so much pain behind it it was almost paralyzing. Bucky wiped at his face sloppily with the palm of his hand, beginning to cry harder. Hunching over, he all but fell into Steve's lap, his head pushing on Steve's chest as Steve rubbed the back of it gently. Seeing Bucky in so much pain made Steve ache himself.

"Shh, you're okay, Buck. I'm right here," Steve whispered. Bucky clutched at Steve's shirt.

"I'm not okay," Bucky sobbed into Steve's chest. He wrapped his arm fully around Steve's back, pulling him closer. Steve felt tears fall into his lap, seep through the fabric of his jeans.

"I'm not okay."

* * *

It had been a month now since Bucky came home. Steve made sure to visit every day after work, spending at least an hour with Bucky a day. Tonight, however, he and Sarah were having dinner with the Barnes family, and Steve would stay the night.

Bucky didn't talk much during dinner, if at all. But it was alright. Nobody expected him to. Nobody expected him to jump back up right away, to be the star of the conversation. It would have been unfair to expect that of him, even under better circumstances.

Nonetheless, Steve was grateful to have this again. To have everybody there, under one roof, at one table, acting like one big family. Like the family they had become.

After dinner was over, Sarah sat in the living room with Mr. and Mrs. Barnes for a while to have coffee, while Bucky and Steve retreated to Bucky's room. This would be the first time since Bucky came home that Steve would be spending a prolonged amount of time with him.  _Bucky_ wasn't completely back, but, Goddammit, Bucky Barnes was home from war, and that's all that mattered.

"I'm glad we're able to do this again," Steve sighed, not being able to help the smile on his face. He was just so glad to be able to sleep next to Bucky again after so long. Bucky snorted slightly.

"You sure about that?" Bucky said, the bitterness in his voice taking Steve aback slightly. 

"Why wouldn't I be?" Steve asked, eyebrows crinkling in confusion. Bucky noncommittally shrugged in response, so Steve just let it slide. Bucky sat down on the side of his bed, eyes distant. He had his hands hanging between his legs, fiddling with them nervously. Steve crawled onto the bed and up to Bucky.

"Buck, is something the matter?" Steve placed a hand on Bucky's shoulder, which Bucky shrugged off. Steve backed up a little, mouth open slightly. 

"What isn't the matter, Steve? I don't know how you can act like anything's okay. I don't know how you can act like you're not repulsed by me." 

Steve tilted his head slightly. "Bucky, why wouldn't I want to be with you?"

" _Because_ , Steve," Bucky snapped, the harshness in his voice unlike anything Steve's heard from him before. "Don't you have any idea? What I did out there?"

"Buck, I-" Steve stammered, before Bucky cut him off.

"Jesus  _Christ,_ did anyone think I could just come back and be fine? Did anyone think  _I_ could be fine? What I had to do... I'm a fucking monster, Steve. I don't know how anyone else doesn't see it."

Steve couldn't believe the anger in Bucky's eyes, the sadness lying just behind it. "You're not a monster, Bucky," he said calmly. "You're everything but, and me, your parents, your sisters- we all know you never could be."

Bucky was pacing back and forth by his bed, face in his hand. "God, you don't even fucking  _know!_ _"_ Bucky shouted the last part, swinging his arm impulsively and sending a jar on his bedside table landing hard on his floor, shattering in three big pieces.

The jar Steve gave Bucky for Christmas, over two years ago.

Both Bucky and Steve stared down, mouths agape, at the broken jar on the floor, pieces of paper scattered around. Bucky leaned back against his wall, sliding down to the floor, eyes still glued to the mess on the floor in front of him. He sniffled, visibly trying to hold back tears, wiping nervously at his eyes. The tears began to come strong, his whole body starting to heave with emotion, and he covered his face in his hand.

Steve carefully slunk down to the floor, brushing the mess to the side carefully so he could sit in front of Bucky. 

"I'm so sorry, Steve," Bucky choked, crying hard. Steve put a hand on Bucky's knee, causing Bucky to look up at him. "I don't know what came over me, Steve. I don't know what- I'm so sorry." 

Steve crawled over to Bucky's side, pushing his back against the wall. Bucky leaned into Steve's side, dropping his hand to Steve's lap. Steve grasped it tightly. 

"It's okay, Buck. I'm here. I'm here."

* * *

Bucky was out in the desert heat, eyes squinting in the sunlight. His follow troops were walking beside him, and even though he wasn't sure where he was going, he followed them anyway. At least they seemed to know what to do.

It all happened in an instant, really - Bucky didn't even know it happened after it happened. One minute, he was standing there, watching a fellow troop unloading cargo from a truck, when suddenly-

_Grenade!_

And suddenly, everything was white, and Bucky couldn't hear a thing, didn't  _know_ a thing. All he knew was the burst of light in front of him, the deafening quiet except for the ringing in his ears, and when he could finally hear something again, he heard screaming. Was it his screaming? He didn't know, and time seemed to move so  _quickly_ , because suddenly he's on a stretcher, he's being taken somewhere, he hears what sounds like a helicopter, but  _what the fuck is happening_?

And now he's lying there. He's in some room he doesn't recognize, he's lying down, which is strange enough in itself. His vision is coming in hazy, his head is fucking pounding, he feels like he's just been hit by a ton of bricks. He moves to raise his hands, get a sense of himself, but he only sees one hand, and he  _knows_ he's moving both, goddammit, why isn't his arm moving?

And then he moves his head drowsily to the side, and when he sees an empty space there- God, if he wasn't so hopped up on drugs, he would have lost his mind right there. He  _felt_ like he was losing his mind. This couldn't be right. This couldn't be  _right._ What happened?  _What the fuck happened to me?_

Then he hears it. "Bucky, Bucky, you're okay, come on, wake  _up_ , you're okay."

And he opens his eyes.

He's sweating, gasping, sheets kicked off messily, and he feels Steve's hands on his arm, hears his voice ushering him back to consciousness. He sat upright forcefully, trying to breathe, but it never seemed to be enough. "Steve, oh my God, Steve-"

"Shh, shh, I'm right here Bucky, I'm right next to you," Steve said, as soothingly as he could as he rubbed Bucky's back. "You're right here. You're with me, Buck."

Bucky finally started breathing normally again, taking deep, measured breaths. Steve patted his shoulder.

"C'mon, I think you need some fresh air."

They both threw hoodies on before stepping out into the cool night air. The slight breeze was a welcome change to Bucky, sweat cooling on his brow. He took Steve's hand in his as they began walking. He needed to feel grounded to something. He needed Steve to keep him from drifting away.

"I'm sorry again, for... All of this," Bucky muttered. He looked down at Steve, biting his lip. He was so afraid of pushing Steve away. Steve stared straight ahead.

"You don't have to apologize, Buck," Steve whispered, blue eyes almost glowing in the moonlight. "For any of it."

"Steve, I-" Bucky started, but Steve stopped him, spinning him around to face himself, placing his hands on Bucky's waist.

"Bucky," said Steve, staring straight up into Bucky's eyes, "do you think I waited over a year for you to come home just to ditch you when it gets rough?"

Bucky searched Steve's face, not knowing what to say. "I'm not the same person I was before I left, Steve..."

"And neither am I. But I'm here for you, 'till the end of the line. Remember?"

Bucky felt his vision go blurry with tears. Steve pulled him gently into an embrace. "Yeah, Steve. I remember."

Bucky couldn't stand it, how unworthy he felt of Steve. He hated himself for lashing out like he did. Lately, he felt like his own mind was betraying him. The nightmares, the paranoia, the jumpiness... He was sure Steve was going to get fed up with it. He was sure the moment he knocked that jar over on an impulse, Steve was going to get up and leave right then.

But here he was.

And here, Steve knew, he was going to stay.


	16. This Is For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Steve couldn't help the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. He wiped hastily at the corners of his eyes with his thumb, coughing a laugh. He didn't know what came over him all of a sudden, but the feeling was incandescent, burning so strongly in his chest. He had to take a breath."

**5 Years Later**

Steve stretched his arms over his head, arched his back, and extended his feet as he yawned sleepily, whimpering slightly at the end of it. Stretching was always his favorite part of waking up. Besides waking up next to Bucky.

He sighed happily as he looked down at the man sleeping at his side, long hair messily splayed out on his pillow. Steve wasn't unaware of the unlikelihood of their situation; high school lovebirds, stronger than ever in their mid 20's. It just didn't happen. And yet. Here they lay, comfortable in one bed in their Brooklyn apartment. Steve never put much thought towards what it would be like to be with someone else. He didn't want someone else. He wanted Bucky. 

Bucky began to stir, eyelids fluttering slightly as he shifted from his position on his side to lying flat on his back. Bucky groaned slightly, lazily rubbing his eyes before running his hand through his tangled hair. Steve never admitted it, because it sounded creepy when spoken, but he loved watching Bucky sleep, and loved watching Bucky right when he's waking up. He loved the unguarded peacefulness of it, loved watching his chest rise and fall steadily, his eyes dart around underneath the lids as he dreamt. Loved watching Bucky stretch and yawn and take stock of himself in the morning. God, he just loved Bucky.

"Rise and shine, Princess," Steve teased softly, turning on his side and propping his head up on his hand to face Bucky. Bucky groaned again.

"Shuddup," he mumbled. "You're the princess." 

Steve chuckled. "I'm not the one with a luscious, flowing head of hair." He leaned into to kiss Bucky on the forehead, to which Bucky pressed his body against Steve in response, wrapping his arm around Steve's chest. After all this time, they were still absolutely head over heels in love with each other. Bucky pressed a tiny peck to the edge of Steve's jaw.

"Baby, can we just sleep all day?" Bucky grumbled. He had stayed up late with Steve the night before, who was working on finishing up an art assignment for the teacher certification course he was taking. Not that Bucky minded it. He was so proud of Steve, watching all the effort he poured into this course, he could hardly contain it. It had been hard for Steve for a while, after Sarah passed a year back. Bucky was heartbroken and worried for Steve. Steve insisted on bottling it up, carrying on with his job and school as if nothing happened, until one day the floodgates opened inside of Steve. Bucky was only glad he was able to be there for Steve.

And now here he was, determined to do something with his life, make a difference. Steve knew it was nothing compared to activism or charity work, but he knew the impact a good teacher could make. Bucky was positive Steve would make the best damn art teacher Brooklyn ever saw. It amazed Bucky, really, that just when he thought he knew Steve inside and out, he found himself falling in love with someone new when he least expected it. The kid had a personality like a Russian matryoshka doll. It kept Bucky on his toes in the best way possible.

And, really, Bucky felt like he owed it to Steve after how patient he was when Bucky came back home. Deep down, Bucky still felt guilty for the way he'd lash out or shut out Steve. It's not even like he did it on purpose, or could help it. But he didn't want to get stuck in a cycle of feeling like he had to make it up to Steve. He knew it would only cause a block in their relationship, for him to start apologizing for everything  _through_ everything. It would ruin their dynamic. It would put Steve in a position of constantly having to reassure Bucky that  _no, really, Buck, I love you, it's alright._ And Bucky knew that  _anyone_ would get fed up with that quickly.

Besides, it didn't last too long anyway. Steve having to get the brunt of it, at least. Before long, the Barnes family found Bucky a therapist that specialized in PTSD. The road had still been rough and uneven for a while thereafter, but he was learning to manage it finally. He's visited the same therapist once a week ever since. One thing that Bucky would always feel bad about was that ever since he came home, they hadn't been able to celebrate Steve's birthday the same way they did at Coney Island years ago. The  _boom, crack_ of the fireworks sent Bucky into a panic attack, which he discovered the hard way, when he and Steve went for a walk at night during his birthday. Bucky would always be grateful for how quick Steve acted on his feet that night. When they heard the first firework go off, Bucky immediately shouted and ducked. Steve had hurriedly brought Bucky back to his house, coaching Bucky through deep breaths while rubbing his back. He put music on as loud as he could in his room to drown out the sound of the fireworks, and eventually they both ended up falling asleep on Steve's bed.

Ever since that night, they'd go out to do something during the day on Steve's birthday, and stay in with a movie during the night. Just in case it ever got shaky for Bucky, Steve kept earplugs on hand. That didn't just go for the 4th of July; New Year's Eve was just as difficult for Bucky. Nonetheless, Steve never complained, or left Bucky alone in his time of need. Bucky felt so indescribably lucky to have Steve, even through everything, after all that time. He almost felt like his luck would run out one day. 

What he didn't know, however, was that Steve felt much the same way about him. After Sarah died, Steve felt completely adrift. He tried grounding himself in work and school, but he could only act like it was working for so long. And the thing is: when Steve broke, he  _broke._ Bucky had never seen the likes of it before, watching someone unravel in an instant right in front of him. He had felt like he was watching someone drowning, without knowing how to help them. Steve had gone to school like usual that day, and when he came home everything seemed normal. Until Steve broke into heaving sobs in the kitchen when his bowl of cereal dropped out of his hand. Of course, he wasn't just crying over spilled milk. That moment marked the beginning of a couple months of emotional instability for Steve, who was unable to get out of bed some days. Or brush his teeth. Or shower. 

Steve chuckled softly at the whine in Bucky's voice. "You can stay in bed. I'm gonna go make breakfast." After brushing his teeth and washing his face, Steve padded into their kitchen, still in his old worn t-shirt and boxers. He'd had this t-shirt since he was 15, when it was slightly oversized. Now it just fit like a normal shirt. He hummed softly as he cracked eggs into a bowl with a splash of milk and began whisking. After pouring the eggs into the pan, he went to put a pot of coffee on. He didn't drink it, but Bucky did. Steve was more of a tea man himself.

And minute later, Bucky shuffled groggily into the kitchen, pressing himself against Steve's back and wrapping his arm around Steve's chest, kissing the spot right behind Steve's ear gently. "Look who decided to join me for breakfast," Steve teased.

"Only 'cause I heard you put coffee on," Bucky grunted, walking over to their small breakfast table. 

"Don't lie, Buck, you know you just can't resist my scrambled eggs." It amused Steve how much Bucky acted like a grumpy kid first thing in the morning, but especially when he didn't get as much sleep as he'd like. Before long, the eggs and coffee were finished, and Steve scooped some on a plate for Bucky before fixing a cup of coffee for him the way he liked (black with sugar). Once Bucky was settled, Steve grabbed a plate of eggs and a glass of milk for himself. Steve secretly loved it, taking care of Bucky like this. Of course, they both took care of each other, but Steve was always more than happy to fuss over Bucky when he had the chance.

"What's on our plate for today?" Bucky asked with a mouthful of egg.

"Well, I'm off today, and I don't have class," Steve grinned. "We're meeting the gang for drinks later, remember?"

Bucky made a small 'Ahh' sound, taking a sip of his coffee. "Well, what are we gonna do until then?"

Steve swallowed his eggs. "Take a nap." 

* * *

A light rain washed over Brooklyn as Steve and Bucky settled back into their bed after breakfast, making the act of nap-taking all too easy. Settling himself under the comforter and releasing a satisfied sigh as his head hit the pillow, he couldn't help but think about how years ago, a 16-year-old Steve fell asleep fantasizing about this very moment, with the very man lying next to him. He shifted on his side to kiss Bucky playfully on the lips. Bucky made a small contented noise, from both the kiss and the fact that he was back in bed.

Bucky flopped over on his side, his back facing Steve, so that Steve could crawl up next to him and wrap his arms around him. Steve sighed as he rested his forehead in the crook between Bucky's neck and shoulder, squeezing Bucky tightly as if he were his favorite teddy bear. Steve was a lot tinier than Bucky, but he'd be damned if he was kept from being the big spoon. Steve liked the comfort and safe feeling of Bucky spooning him, but sometimes, he just needed to squeeze himself against Bucky, as if he could become part of him. In many ways, Bucky  _was_ a part of him.

Laying like this as the rain beat gently on their bedroom window, the room washed a sleepy gray, Steve was positive he'd discovered what bliss was. Or at least, what his personal bliss was. The soft downpour carried the two men swiftly to their sleep, pulling it over them like a warm blanket.

* * *

"Long time, no fuckin' see, Stevie," Natasha chided as she stepped through the doors of the warmly lit bar the group of five liked to meet at. She was wearing a slim-fitting long black dress, sensible matching heels, and her hair up in an effortless bun. Natasha herself was finishing her degree in Communications, hoping to work her way up to a head-honcho corporate job one day. 

"Well, we've both been a little busy, haven't we, Nat?" Steve grinned, getting up from his seat to hug his best friend. It really had been too long since they saw each other. They were both just so damned busy with school.

"That's no excuse, Rogers. I expect a full rundown of your life since we last met."

"Well, you're gonna be mighty disappointed when you hear that all I've been doing is work."

Natasha ordered a Long Island iced tea, never really one for fussy drinks. Except for mudslides and margaritas. She  _loved_ mudslides and margaritas. "Aw, come on, not even Bucky's been up to anything?"

"I was in a Veterans marathon," chimed Bucky, taking a sip of his martini. "10k."

Natasha ducked her head towards Bucky was she took a sip of her drink, eyebrow raised. "Impressive. Couldn't stay away from track after high school?"

"Clears the mind," Bucky replied in a tone as if he were offering sagely advice. Steve giggled. Just then, Sam came through the door, heading straight for their table.

"How are my favorite pack of misfits and troublemakers?" He greeted enthusiastically. He was dressed formal-casually, wearing a plaid button down tucked into his khaki pants with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Sam was training to become a pilot.

"Misfits and troublemakers?" Natasha asked, eyebrow raised again in that signature way of hers. Steve liked to muse that one day her face was gonna get stuck that way, she pulled it so often. "Speak for yourself, Wilson."

"Come on now, don't act like Steve was never capable of ruffling a few feathers.  _He's_ the one that got punched out at a protest, after all. Then tried pushing away the future love of his life when he came over to help him." Sam grinned at Steve, who turned to look at Bucky, blushing under the slightly dimmed lights. 

"Thank God it didn't work," Steve whispered to Bucky, both men breaking into soft grins. 

"Hey, hey, get a room, you two," Clint protested noisily as he appeared at their table next to Sam. Bucky threw his arms open in welcome. 

"Clint, buddy!" Bucky called, eyes lighting up. "How fuckin' long as it been?"

"I don't know, Barnes, when was the last time you detached from your boyfriend?" Clint teased, smirking.

"Probably the last time you let go of your bow and arrow," replied Bucky. They both paused.

"So, months," they said in unison, bursting into laughter. "I missed you, bud. I missed all of you guys."

Despite their best efforts to remain in contact, life was pulling them all in different directions at once. It was difficult to maintain a social life when you were all working towards the beginning of your long term goals. Even so, when they did get the chance to meet, there was never a single moment of stiffness between the five of them. No matter what, they'd all always be there for each other.

"So, what the hell is happening with you all?" Asked Natasha as soon as everyone was settled, and with that, the five friends launched with ease into their comfortable routine of affectionate teasing and banter. For a moment, Steve tuned out of the conversation to look around at his loved ones around him. He was glad he was already sitting down, because if not, the sheer impact of realizing just how much all these people meant to him would have knocked him on his ass. They'd built such a tight knit group over the past few years, and Steve didn't know what he'd do without any of them. 

"Guys, I gotta say something," Steve announced, everyone falling silent as they turned to look and wait. "I just thought you should all know how damn lucky I am to have you guys. Each and every one of you."

"Aww, Steve, you fucking sap," Natasha cooed, nudging Steve's shoulder. 

"Yeah, man, save it for the Hallmark cards," Clint teased.

"Took you long enough," Sam said with a grin. 

Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve's shoulder, planting a big kiss on his cheek. "We all feel the same way about you, Stevie." 

Steve couldn't help the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. He wiped hastily at the corners of his eyes with his thumb, coughing a laugh. He didn't know what came over him all of a sudden, but the feeling was incandescent, burning so strongly in his chest. He had to take a breath.

"How about a toast?" Natasha proposed, raising her glass slightly.

"To what?" Asked Clint.

"To  _us_ , jackass," Sam chided, giggling. 

"That sounds like a  _great_ idea, Nat," Bucky said, raising his glass as well. Soon enough, everyone raised their glasses, clanging them noisily over the middle of their table. 

"To the misfits!" Sam cheered.

"Shut  _up,_ Wilson," chuckled Natasha. 

"To the misfits," Steve repeated, nodding with a smile towards Steve.

 _This is for you,_ Steve thought to his younger self, small and insecure and flinching at life hurtling like a storm in his path.  _This is for you_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it was guys, the last chapter of Head Over Heels! Listen, I really loved writing this story. And I really hope this ending is satisfying for you guys. Thank you once again for taking the time to read this (I know I've already said it before), and thank you for your kind comments and kudos and just everything. Please let me know what you thought of this, if any of you should feel so inclined! I hope you enjoyed!


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